Aspasia Williams and the Darker Woods
by out.of.sea.into.woods
Summary: Aspasia was never meant to be born. The offspring of her mother's broken pledge, she is alone as the daughter of Artemis. But, when something evil and ancient attacks Olympus in the dark, the campers are more than willing to blame her. To escape the punishment for a crime she did not commit, Aspasia must flee to the place no one will follow: The Darker Woods.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own PJO**

CHAPTER 1

Icy hands reach through the darkness, groping for their victim. I cower close to the ground, my body shivering out of control. The mist is thick and eerie, giving off a ghastly glow. Horrible, rolling howls and shrieks echo around me. Things run around me, some coming too close for comfort. I lash out and something cries out in pain. Despite the terror that has replaced my blood, some grim kind of happiness fills me. Suddenly, something grabs me and I scream. I try and kick my way free, tearing at the fleshy hand with my nails, but to no avail.

The hand holds me high above the ground. The mist begins to swirl, darkening and solidifying. A face forms, though it's a face that shifts and falls and cannot be described. The eyes glow red and seem to smile at me.

_Little girl_, a huge voice speaks in my mind. _Soon, you'll have nothing left._

The hand's grip gets tighter and tighter, like I'm about to break in half. I can't breath and I flail, trying to find some air, but nothing happens. Then, the hand lets go and I'm falling, falling so fast that the world blurs and I think I've died.

I jackknife into a sitting position, the sheets of my bed tangled around me. The last wisps of dream are chased away by reality. Cabin 8 is dark and silent, except for my uneasy breathing. I relax, leaning my head into my hand. Sweat runs down my neck, my collarbone, staining my tank top. I command myself to breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out.

"Only a dream." I mutter, laughing a little at myself. "Just a dream, Aspasia." I lay back in my bed, but I know sleep won't come. It never does after a nightmare, of which I am no stranger to. Slowly, the light that filters through the distant window turns from silver to gray to pink to pale yellow. Dawn has come.

I sit back up, swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and head to the bathroom. My reflection is jarring. My flaming hair is tangled and frames my pale skin like I'm actually on fire. There are deep bags under my eyes, contrasted by the metallic silver of my eyes. I lean my forehead against the cool mirror for a moment. Then, I set to work making myself presentable. Brushing my teeth, putting in my gray eyed contacts, struggling to tame my hair. Then, I change into a lavender blouse, an understated brown jacket, black pants, and gray boots.

When I step outside, I instantly decipher that I'm the only one awake at this hour. The camp grounds are dead silent. Still, I head to the Big House quickly. Despite myself, I look back and examine the cabins once I'm far enough away.

The original twelve stand proud, circling the hearth in a U-shape. The minor cabins stretch out at the ends, eventually looping back towards the hearth, then creating another U to complete the cycle. Each is beautiful in it's own way, some strange, some breathtaking, some ingenious. Naturally, my eyes linger on my own, Cabin 8. My mother's cabin. The cabin of the Hunters. The cabin of Lady Artemis.

I take a deep breath, unpleasant memories coming back to me. I was delivered to Camp Half-Blood as a newborn, raised here for all of my sixteen years. And for all of those sixteen years, I've been alone. Yes, Chiron has raised me as his daughter, with all the love and devotion of a real father. But I've always been truly alone. It's hard for a sixteen year old to fit in, even harder for a little girl to find friends when the people part before her like the Red Sea.

I shake my head, trying to shake loose the sad thoughts. When I walk in the Big House dining area, it's mostly empty, but the magical torches sense my presence and burst into brightness. I take my plate and scrounge up some breakfast. The hearth is still burning, tended by a strange young girl in brown. I smile at her and she smiles back, her eyes glowing. Awkwardly, I close my eyes and mutter a soft prayer as I push part of my eggs, bacon, and toast into the fire.

_For the Lady Artemis_, I find myself saying.

I sit at my table alone, eating slowly. The cabins begin to come in, slowly, in order, headed by the proud cabin leaders. Behind the golden haired sharpshooters of the Apollo Cabin, an empty slot stands for me and the Hunters.

I chew a piece of bacon disdainfully as the rest of the campers fill the blissfully quiet room with noise. Even in the morning, they find something to talk about. Chatter bubbling out of their mouths, nonstop, it's exhausting. So different from the silence of a hunt.

Movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention and I turn to find a red squirrel perched in the seat next to me. It's dark eyes are bright with inquisitiveness.

Trying to be discreet, I say, "Shoo! Go away!'

_Lady Princess_, the squirrel says, giving a comical bow of it's head.

"Gods, please, I keep telling you guys. Don't call me that."

_Forgive me, Lady Princess, but I bring news from the woods_. He looks at me with a little fear and a whole lot of expectation. I sigh, because this is what I do. All the animals nearby, they come to me with their problems. Like the stories Percy Jackson tells of sea creatures coming for his aide? That's like me, but I don't have to swim to solve their problems.

"Go ahead." I sigh.

_A creature broke through the Northern Border a few nights ago. It has been destroying the more distant woods ever since._

"That's strange," I say. "The Northern Border is the sound. What kind of creature, like a sea monster that's grown legs?"

The squirrel almost looks embarrassed, tucking it's head under it's paw. _We do not know, Lady Princess. It is like nothing we have ever seen. _A shiver goes through his thick fur. _It is terrifying._

In a flash of compassion, I run my fingers through his coat. Like a dog, he nuzzles my hands for comfort. I smile, then I begin to notice all eyes around me are staring. Staring at the girl talking to a squirrel, petting one too. Stares turn to snickers as my cheeks turn vibrant red.

"Alright," I pull my hand away. "I'll tell Chiron and we'll organize a hunt."

_Thank you, Lady_-

"Go now!" I shoo him away. "Go on." With a hurt look, he scampers off into the trees. I turn back to my plate, trying to tell my cheeks to stop burning. I feel bad for being mean, but I feel twice as bad being the freak in a camp full of freaks.

"Attention!" Chiron's voice booms over the noise and we all fall silent. He clears his throat and says, "First off, good morning to you all! I hope you had pleasant dreams." A few boys laugh and make some loud, inappropriate jokes.

"If you only knew. Chiron." I mutter.

"Secondly, I'd like to welcome all of our summer campers back." Oh yeah, summer vacation started yesterday. That explains the swelled numbers of campers. "We are delighted to have are old friends back, and excited to make new ones as well." A few cheers and plenty of smiles.

"Also, I'd like to bring something to everyone's attention." The campers seem to lean forward, waiting for Chiron's words. "I'm sure you all know that Aaron Jackson is back for the summer." Excited murmurs echo. Aaron is Percy Jackson's only son and is one of the most well-liked people of the camp. I've never actually had a conversation with him, but hey, who have I had one with? I lean over my table and I can only get a glimpse of his jet black hair through the mosh of teenagers.

"I would like to remind you that every camper deserves a normal camp experience. Please do your best _not _to single out any particular campers." He eyes us all, silencing all small giggles. For a moment, there's silence. Then, he smiles and raises his glass and says, "To the gods."

We raise our glasses and echo. My voice is quiet and I take a small sip of water. Almost on que, a horrendous roar rips through the forest. The trees shake, birds take flight, and it might be my imagination, but the table beneath me seems to shake. I look up and make eye contact with Chiron. His eyes are confused and questioning. I sigh, turn up my hood to cover my hair, and jog into the nearby woods. Looks like that hunt is happening right now.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own PJO. Btws, you pronounce Aspasia _Uh-spa(as in spa_ce)_-cee-uh_**

CHAPTER 2

I lean down and touch the soft dirt that has formed an impressive footprint. It's large enough for me to stand in it, with some extra room. By the looks, this thing has five long, sharp claws. Around me, trees have been snapped in half and are lying in the mud, dryads weeping for their lost friends. I try not to pay any attention to them, but it's hard not to.

In the distance, I hear the campers being organized. I imagine the campers arming themselves, passing out bows to be strung and swords to be sharpened and straightening each others armor. I picture Chiron looking grim but serene, handing out orders like rations, quieting the chaos for a moment before he is overwhelmed again.

I start jogging at a brisk pace in the direction of the wreckage. The campers will only hinder my hunt, will only distract me. In fact, if I'm having trouble locating this "beast", I can't imagine the rest of them ever will.

After a while, I stop in a meadow to catch my breath and reevaluate. Leaning against the trunk of a willow tree, I take in the view around me. This far into the woods, the Wild is untouched. Flowers bloom in every hue imaginable, and a few that aren't. Animals that shouldn't be anywhere near the United States can be seen prowling in the shadows. Even the trees occasionally come to life, gently bowing or creaking to one side. Birds fly freely here, calling to each other nonstop.

This is what jack-knifes me to attention. It is quiet.

The hunter in me jumps forward as far as I can, tumbling into the grass. Just as I clear the willow branches, something flies down and crushes the small tree. I look over my shoulder and, towering in the canopy of trees, the beast rises.

I've seen my fair share of beasts, both natural and monstrous. This, however, is something that I've never seem. It's huge, its head hiding in the leaves with the sharp points of horns sticking out of the canopy. Its body is massive and gray, barnacle-like parasites littering it's hide alongside battle scars. It stands like an ape, resting it's weight on its back legs and front knuckles. At the end of each arm, long, wickedly curved claws dig into the ground.

It takes a step into the clearing and I see it's face. Like a snapping turtle mixed with a troll, its hard face is angular and sharp, it's horns pointing forward. All over its skin, patches of off-white glow against the gray of its skin, eerily looking like its own bones. It's eyes are black, I can't tell if its looking at me or simply blind. Slowly, I try and inch my way back. Instantly, it focuses in on me, and a look of hateful contempt sharpens it's face. I hold my breath.

When the beast tries to smash me again, I'm ready. I jump out of the way, letting the fist make a huge indention in the earth where I just was. Suddenly, my bow is in my hands, my full quiver on my back. One of the few perks of being a daughter of Artemis. Without thinking, I notch an arrow and let it fly into the beast's eye.

It recoils and roars in pain. It's scream is so terribly deep and powerful, I think my hair blows back from the force. It swats at me, but I dodge its angry hand just in time. Another arrow, another, and another. These, however, don't find their marks. They simple clatter against its skin and fall to the ground. Ripping the arrow out of it's eye, it turns to me again, it's face now covered in blood and hate.

It's fist comes down again and I barely backpedal fast enough to dodge it. Using all my strength, I jump onto the huge fist and, using my momentum, push off it and grab onto its massive shoulder. As I scramble onto its back, it roars and tries to pull me off. But I manage to position myself _just_ out of its reach, gripping tightly to its leather-like skin. I pull out an arrow and try and stab it into the beast's flesh, but the arrow just snaps. Underneath me, the beast begins to rear back on it's hind legs and I tighten my grip on it's skin, overwhelming terror filling me.

A howl suddenly fills the air. The beast regains its normal footing when a pack of wolves rush into the meadow. With teeth barred and pelts bristled in fury, they attack it's legs and arms, nipping it here and there, then jumping back. The beast roars in confusion, but they're only making it madder.

_Lady Princess_! A voice cries in my mind. I look around and a male wolf with a reddish brown coat standing behind the beast is looking up at me with nervous golden eyes. _You must jump, Lady Princess. Jump, now!_

I don't hesitate and push off the beast's back as hard as I can, reaching for the wolf. I collide with his soft, furry body with a yelp and we go tumbling into the grass.

"Thank you." I say breathlessly. He's rapidly licking my face. I become aware of various cuts from the sharp debris of the beast's attempts to smash me.

_No time for thanks_, the wolf says. _Lady Princess must return to the hunt_. I nod and jump back up, my bow drawn again. The beast spots me and instantly tries to swat me again. I duck beneath its grasp and, from the ground fire another arrow into its eye. However, this one seems to hardly bother it, it just swats at me again and this time, I'm not quick enough to dodge. But something heavy pushes me down and the hand harmlessly swipes above me. From the ground, I look over and see the red-brown wolf flying through the air before crashing into a tree. I open my mouth to scream, but the immense shadow of the monster falls over me and I can only close my eyes before I'm destined to be crushed.

But the hand of the monster does not come crashing down. I look up and see none other than Aaron Jackson slashing at it's ankles. Furious, the beast tries to crush him, but Aaron manages to roll out of the way just in time. I jump to my feet and launch an arrow into the beast's back. It only bounces off, but the monsters turns to see me again. In that instant, I run in between it's tree-like legs to Jackson, grab him by the arm, and pull him behind a thick bush.

"Are you crazy?" I whisper angrily at him. The beast, confused, is tearing up trees at the other end of the clearing.

"What?" Aaron looks at me angrily, his gray eyes sharp with sarcasm. "Would you rather handle this by yourself?"

"Actually, I'd rather handle it with a troupe of archers and swordsman to back me up. Not one stupid... _Boy_!" I spit the word out at him. He rolls his eyes.

"Whatever. I'm just as trained as anyone. I can help."

"You _can't_. You may think you're trained, but even I can't handle this alone. The two of us won't do any better. We need to-"

"Stop this thing before it destroys the forest, then heads for camp." He glares at me. "That's a brilliant idea."

"It's suicide." He doesn't listen, just presses a button on his watch. In an instant, it turns into a shield. It's a simple gold, no decorations. But even in the dim light behind the bush, it's shining bright.

"Are you crazy?" I shove the shield away. "It'll see-"

But I don't finish because Aaron grabs my arm and is dragging me away. An instant later, a giant fist crushes the bush we were behind. Aaron re-grips his sword, yells "Delta right!", and charges for the beast. I have no idea what this means, but I just draw my bow, shooting arrows whizzing towards the monster's face from the partial safety of the trees. Maybe the arrows have some effect, but the monster is no slower. Aaron weaves in between its huge legs, trying not to be squished. Then, he manages to slice into the monster's flesh at its right thigh. Seeing an opportunity, I launch an arrow into the wound. The beast roars in pain, its cries vibrant and red.

Aaron and I make eye contact and he nods. Then, he goes in, making slashes all over the monster's limbs. Once he's clear, I fill the wound with arrows. The beast is tired and disoriented now, but no less powerful. Aaron makes another slice, but when he turns to run, he trips into one of the deep canyons dug by the beast's great claws.

When the creature moves to crush him, I jump from my forest hiding place, screaming and waving my arms above my head. The beast turns to me and it's eyes light up. Like lightning, it lunges for me and I'm not quick enough to dodge. It wraps its cold, hard hand around me, squeezing the life out of me. I feel something sharp stab into me, but I push that out of my mind. I struggle to free myself, but to no avail. The monster brings its head low to the ground to look into my eyes. Its face is black with its own blood, but its eyes seem to glow with anticipation. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as it opens its maw to devour me.

Before it can, the monster lets loose a shriek and rears on its back legs. In an instant, I see a bloody gash across the beast's throat. Before I can think, I've summoned my bow and launched an arrow. The arrow buries itself fully into the wound. The light leaves the monster's eyes, its grip loosens. But now I am falling with it from high in the air. I manage to push open its dead hand and launch myself into free air.

I land on something soft with a thud. My breath shoots out of me and black spots dance across my vision. After a moment, I open my eyes and find myself on top of Aaron, lying a few feet away from the body of the beast. I roll off of him, laying on my back on the grass. I'm covered in sweat, dirt, dust, and little cuts everywhere. My heart is trying to stop racing, to no avail. I press my hands over my heart, take a few deep breathes, then lay my hands on my stomach.

"Thanks." I say panting.

"Don't mention it." Aaron responds, slowly sitting up on his elbows. When he speaks again, his voice is full of worry. "Why am I covered in blood?"

That's when I lift my hands to my face. They're red with blood. With _my_ blood.


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own PJO. Go check out my Hunger Games fanfiction called, "Broken Silence".**

CHAPTER 3

When I open my eyes, I'm lying in the infirmary. The sheets that cover me are warm and itchy. Gauzy sheets hang from the ceiling and separate each bed, floating in the movement of air and reminding me of ships' sails. I try and look around but my blood seems to weigh me down. Healers glide up and down the walkway, checking patients with gentle words. One stops in front of me, eyes me, and moves on.

I groan and try and stretch, but even that's an effort. My body aches and I'm suddenly aware of the scratchy bandages wrapped across my middle. I lay my head back down, looking over to the bed next to me. In it is Aaron Jackson, with a smirk across his face.

"Hey," His voice is soft. "Come here often?"

I manage to muster the energy to roll my eyes. "What are you in for?" I ask, my voice is thick and scratchy.

"Well, when I was, ya know, saving your life," He says proudly. "I apparently twisted my ankles." He gestures to his foot, wrapped in white gauze.

"Nice."

"I know, right?"

I look back up to the dark wood of the ceiling, studying the intricate grain. I close my eyes and let the subtle sounds of work wash over me. The gentle tread of the healers, the sound of bottles clicking together, the soft murmurs of patients, the sound of movement of the sheets.

Suddenly, sharp clicks fill the air and my eyes burst open. Coming to a stop in front of Aaron's bed is a women in her mid-thirties. She's wearing a modern black suit with a skirt, her curly blonde hair tied back in a neat bun, her gray eyes stormy beneath her glasses.

I can only guess this is Annabeth Jackson. Aaron's mother.

"Before I start," Annabeth says. "Do you want to say anything?"

"Well," Aaron says, thinking. "I don't know. This is the girl I saved." He gestures to me. Annabeth gazes at me through the sheets, her eyes softening for a moment.

"She's very pretty." She says, which makes me blush and feel uncomfortable. When she looks back to her son, her gaze hardens again. "So, you almost got yourself killed for a _pretty_ girl. That makes it worse."

"Mom, I didn't almost get myself killed. It was nothing."

"Aaron," Annabeth rubs her temples. "I just came from the body. It's _enormous_. I've never seen anything like it before. Two headstrong teenagers could never had taken on a monster like that."

"But we did." Aaron counters.

"Yes," His mother concedes. "And for that, I commend you. But," She holds an angry finger in the air to pause all hope. "That doesn't make it any less irresponsible. You should've waited for back up, you should've never taken it on alone."

"Advice that I gave him!" I interject.

"Yes, thank you!" She gestures to me. "See, the girl has some sense! Why couldn't you have listened to- I'm sorry, sweetie, what was your name?"

"Aspasia."

"Why couldn't you listen to Aspasia?"

"Alright! Alright!" Aaron sighs in defeat. "I'm sorry I put myself in harm's way. I'll try and think more clearly next time."

"Thank you." Annabeth over enunciates dramatically. She sighs and moves to take her son by the hand. "I'm just glad you're safe." The softness in her eyes, the gratitude in his, the love in this small gesture makes me so happy and I feel tears welling up from my eyes and I hear my heart cracking. Quickly rubbing away the sadness from my eyes, I ask, "Have they discovered where it came from?"

Annabeth looks up at me. "No, we haven't even decided exactly _what_ it is. But don't worry, we will eventually. In the mean time," She says, rising and brushing the wrinkles from her skirt. "I'll be staying here to advise Chiron and to assist in any way I can."

"Is Dad coming?" Aaron asks hopefully.  
"No." Annabeth's voice is sad. "I didn't think we should make him come unless it gets serious. Don't worry sweetheart." She runs a hand through her son's hair. "You'll see him soon." She kisses Aaron on the forehead, tells me goodbye, and then she walks away, the clicking of her heels echoing.

Aaron is quiet for a while. I let him, ruminating on everything. Aaron is so lucky. To have two parents who adore him, who would drop everything for him, who would guide him, that is a luxury that I will never posses. I close my eyes and I wonder if, when I was a baby, if my mother ever held my hand, if she ever stroked my hair, if she ever kissed my forehead.

"Did they find the wolves?" I say out of the blue.

"What?"

"Did they find the wolves?" I repeat. "The wolves that came to help me. One of them, he died pushing me out of the way of the beast's hand."

"No, I don't think they said anything about wolves." Aaron doesn't look over at me, just stares at the ceiling."

"Wolves are fine creatures." I decide.

"They sure are."


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own PJO.**

CHAPTER 4

I'm stretching in the archery ranging, throwing my arms high in the air and then reaching down to touch my toes. My wound has healed but some tightness remains and I have to work my way through it.

The air is crisp, mist pooling over the forest. I'm alone at the moment, letting the silence vibrate inside my head. My hair is spilling loose over my shoulders, tangled but free and away from my eyes. Without further ado, I stand straight, open my hands, and my bow is there, ready.

I don't really know how I make my bow appear. Sometimes, in high stress situations, it just appears and I'm shooting and I don't have to think about it. But right now, I just picture my bow and it's there. The body of the bow is silver, made of twisted material that looks like deer horns or wood. The grip is leather and smooth, engraved with a vine design. It feels perfect in my hands, like my other half.

I start shooting and the steady _twang_ of the string, the sharp thud of the arrow connecting with the bulls eye, it makes my heart slow and clears my head. My side aches, but I work through it.

I know Chiron is standing behind me long before he makes a sound. The faint swish of his tail, the steady thud of his heart, the murmur of his breathing. But I just keep shooting. After a while, he says, "You're not as sharp today."

I sigh. "I _did_ just almost get killed. I'm sorry I'm not in a constant state of perfection."

He doesn't say anything, just makes his way to stand beside me. From the corner of my eye, I look at him. He's turned more and more gray over the years, making him seem more and more wise. He stands straight and serene, holding his arms behind his back.

"Do you know what it was?" I ask him, letting another arrow sink into a target.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing."

"Well," I murmur out of the corner of my eye as I hone in on a human shaped dummy. "It was inefficient. It was too big to be agile, but it was built like it was suppose to be fast. It was incredibly strong, but it's strength made it clunky. It didn't work." I let the arrow disappear into the dummy's head. "Like it was an experiment."

"Interesting observation." Chiron strokes his beard in an attempt to look pensive. I roll my eyes and let loose another arrow. This time, it hits the target dead center, not leaning left or right.

"What are we going to do about it?"

"Nothing." He responds. "It was one attack. Of course, we'll continue to investigate, but I don't see what we can do about it." I keep quite, not voicing my discontent. Surely, there's something, something we can do...

"How's Jackson?" I find myself saying.

"Better." Chiron seems just as surprised. "His ankle was only twisted and it's almost completely better." A pause. "He seems quite fond of you."

"I'm very fond of cheesy bread." I lower my bow and glare at Chiron. "Wanna make something of it?" He holds his hands up in defeat but grins at me. I sigh and smile. Until he says, "I want you to train him."

"What?!"

"Aaron needs guidance." Chiron puts on his stern, fatherly face. "He has all the power and ability of his parents, but hasn't the skills to put them to use. I'm amazed he came out of that battle with the monster with only a torn ankle. I would do it myself, but," Chiron sighs. "I'm not the centaur I once was. I'm too old. Aaron needs someone to fight, to learn from, to aspire to be like." Chiron's dark eyes light up. "He needs someone like you."

"I'm still waiting for the punchline to this horrible joke." I cross my arms. "What can I teach him? I'm an archer, he's a swordsman."

"You're also the best hunter in Camp." Chiron counters. "And battle is only hunting when the prey fights back." I let out an angry sigh. "Aspasia, I'm not asking. I'm _telling_." I glare at Chiron, sizing him up. His face is almost giddy now.

"I think it'll be good for you both." He finishes and turns and begins to leave. Before he's gone, he shouts over his shoulder, "Be in the arena in ten minutes."

"What for?"

"I've schedule your first training lesson."


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own PJO.**

CHAPTER 5

Currently, I hate my life. I know most sixteen year old girls will tell you this, but imagine saying it and actually _meaning it_? I really hate my life.

I'm strapping on lightweight bronze armor, stretching my neck, trying to ignore the cacophony of murmurs that fill the arena. Every seat is filled, every camper in each seat is furiously whispering to the one sitting next to them. Chiron stands at the center of the ring, looking a bit surprised, if not a little amused, with his long staff resting in his hands. And standing across from me, doing over-dramatic stretches for the crowd, is Aaron Jackson.

After I'm done with my armor, I cross my arms and take deep breathes as I scan the crowd. No one meets my gaze, but as soon as my eyes go over a portion of campers, they feel obligated to cast obvious stares and pointed fingers at me. I don't know much of the crowd, which isn't surprising. I see Annabeth standing at the top of the arena. She meets my gaze and I think I see her smile, which comforts me, strangely.

I notice in the section closest to where Jackson is standing, a group of pretty girls sit demurely, but with no less excitement than the rest of the crowd. One girl, a daughter of Demeter who's name is something like Cosette or Corvett, leans over the rim of the arena to hand a small rose to Aaron. He accepts it graciously and says something to her, but I can only laugh at the fact that they use to give roses to gladiators on their way to the slaughter.

Chiron bangs his staff into the ground, silencing the arena. Aaron and I step to the center. Chiron looks at each of us, and says, "Each of you are to be provided with one sword."

Confused, I look at Chiron as a nymph steps forward and hands us each a silver blade, long and light. "Why a sword?"

"If it's an unfamiliar weapon for both of you, neither of you have an unfair advantage." I don't mention that the fact that Aaron is the son of the Camp's best swordsman is an unfair advantage.

"Now," Chiron says. "I want a good clean fight. You don't have anything to prove. This is just a small fight to see where both of you stand." Chiron glares at Jackson. "I'm quite curious as to how the entirety of the Camp found out about this, and why they would find it so interesting."

Jackson just gives a small shrug. "Word travels fast."

Chiron gives a _humph_ and steps to the edge of the arena. "Fighters, to your mark." Aaron and I stand a few paces apart. I'm gripping my sword when I realize my heart is beating really fast and my palms are sweating like crazy. I examine my opponent. He's at least a foot taller than me, and quite a bit broader. But he's built like a skater or a surfer. I'm built like a hunter.

Aaron meets my eyes and there's an impish glint to them. "Don't hurt yourself, Flame Princess."

I stare at him incredulously. Flame Princess? Is that suppose to be a ginger joke? I'm thinking about this when Chiron stomps the ground with his staff again, signifying the start of the fight. And before I know it, Aaron is swinging his sword at me. The arena erupts in cheers but I let it fade away. My instincts take over and I barely manage to step out of the way of the blade.

Thinking quick, I kick Aaron's ankles out from under him, making him fall to the ground and lose his grip on his sword. I raise the butt of the sword to bring it down on his back and the bring the fight to a quick end when Aaron grabs my feet and does the same to me and, before I know it, I'm hitting on the hard ground, my blade clattering away.

The crowd in screaming at us, but the cries mean nothing as Aaron and I wrestle, trying to gain control. He's exceptionally stronger than I am, almost pinning me several times. But I use my size and speed to confuse him, trying to wring my way out of his grasp. In the struggle, Aaron leans his head close to my ear and whispers in a hurried voice, "We better readjust our position before this gets too steamy." At the same time, I feel his hand on the back of my thigh as he tries to pin my legs down.

My cheeks burn from the effort of the fight and from the embarrassment. Without hesitating, I headbutt him. Hard. This stuns him into a moment of weakness, in which I push him off and jump to my feet. I hear the crowd boo, but frankly, I'm not here to please them.

I scramble to reclaim my sword. When I have it back in my hand, I whip around to find Aaron, blade in hand, swinging it down at me. I whip my own sword up to block and push him back. As he regains his balance, I catch my breath and we begin circling each other, sizing each other up. I become acutely aware of the sweat that is running down my forehead, into the corners of my eyes. My hair, barely held back in a messy braid. Aaron is covered in sweat, his hair lop-sided and messy, but the same spark in his eye remains.

"You're better than I expected." Aaron says, gasping.

"Thanks." I don't know what I'm suppose to say, but after the words escape my mouth, I instantly regret them. To make up for it, I swing my sword to slam him with the blunt edge. It hits him squarely in the chest and he stumbles back, gasping. When he looks back at me, some of the happy spark has gone. He swings his blade down hard and as soon as I dodge, he swings it again. I bend at the waist, the blade missing me by centimeters.

Jack-knifing upright, I slash him, only to clang against his own sword. We push against each other hard, trying to gain power. At this time, I become acutely aware of how close I am to his face. I can see his pores, his tan skin covered in dirt and sweat. He smells faintly of horses and Old Spice. I look into his eyes and find their intense gaze boring into me. They aren't green, his eyes. I mean, mostly, they are a deep sea-green. But speckles of stormy gray litter his iris. It's incredible.

And about this time, Aaron decided to grab me by my braid with his free hand and jerk me around. I fall to my knees, pulled over to his side, dropping my sword in the process. I think I hear the crowd gasp, Chiron cry out. Stinging pain tears at my scalp and I feel a few tears fill the corners of my eyes, but mostly I'm angry. I elbow him at the knees and push him away.

Look devious, Aaron carelessly swings his blade at me. I easily dodge it but it flies to close to my face and I feel a sharp line of fire across my cheek. I bring my hand to my face and feel a small cut near my cheekbone bleeding fast. Aaron opens his mouth, the expression on his face suggestion an apology is about to follow. But then a series of quick thoughts fly through my head. This is a fight, accidents are bound to happen. But he still felt like he needed to apologize. It's because... It's because...

It's because I'm a girl.

And then, I become a colder, more calculated version of myself. I take two quick steps towards Aaron, grab his sword him fast as lightning, and tighten my grip until he drops the sword. He struggles, trying to free himself, but I don't let go. He's saying things, chill out, I'm sorry, it was an accident, don't be so intense, calm down, but I don't let go. Chiron is yelling now, an angry look on his face, but I don't let go.

With my other hand, I slap Aaron. Hard. The sound is shocking, the resonance incredible. The crowd is hushed. I must've hit him harder than I intended, because he falls over into the dirt. When he looks up at me, his lip is busted and blood is trickling out of his nose.

Suddenly, the cold version of me leaves and I'm overwhelmed by the silent sounds of the arena, the furious look on Chiron's face, the faint sound of the birds singing like they're disappointed in me.

I open my mouth to say something, but no words come. I simply turn on my heel and walk out, tense under the gaze of every single person in that arena.


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own PJO. Also, I can't write fight scenes. I apologize.**

CHAPTER 6

I'm in my cabin, cleaning my cut with a wash cloth as my iPod plays a Birdy song. My heart is slowing down, but my stomach is twisted into nervous, guilty knots.

Cabin 8 has an interesting set up. It's made for the Hunters, which number to about 30 to 50. Empty bunk beds stand in tight little rows. The walls are painted gray with a tint of blue. A warm, mossy green rug lies on the floor. The skins of past kills hang on the walls, ranging from the shaggy brown of a grizzly to the striped beauty of a Bengal tiger. There's a large table to one end of the room alongside a huge cabinet. The top compartment is for the small amount of clothes the Hunters carry with them, the bottom one for the plethora of weapons they keep with them. Opposite of the door is the bathroom, where I am now. I suspect the original Camp designers added this feature in light of the fact that the Hunters would probably not enjoy showering and going to the bathroom near the boys of the Camp.

When my cut and face are clear of all the dust and dirt and blood, I look at myself in the mirror. I reach back and pull my hair out of it's braid, letting the red waves pool over my shoulders. Not just red, but orange and ruby and crimson and gold and even a few strands of pink. I've considered dyeing it some dull, normal color, but that would imply that I care about it. My eyes start feeling itchy so I lean back and rip out my contacts. Back in my reflection, my eyes now glow a luminous, magical silver.

About this time, I start to mutter at my reflection. How stupid I am, how I'm too quick to act, too angry, too defensive. How I stepped over the line. Maybe Aaron did too, but you're better than him, Aspasia. This is all your fault, Chiron will be so disappointed, how could you do this?

And then, I start to cry. I don't weep, like other people do. I just do a single, whimpering gasp and a few tears stream down the curve of my cheek. Then, I start pacing around the Cabin, getting angry and then getting sad again. I turn off my iPod, because it had the audacity to play a happy song when I was not happy, by throwing it across the room and burying it under some blankets.

"It's Chiron's fault," I yell at the bear skin. "Why did he have to, like, set me up with that stupid... _Boy_! I didn't ask for that, I didn't need that."

_It's not Chiron's fault_, I imagine the skin says in response. _He was only trying to help you, to help both of you, in that infuriating Chiron-esque way. Don't blame him for this._

"That stupid crowd." I murmur to the ibex pelt on the other wall. "Those stupid campers. Those stupid, stupid teenager. They, they egged us on, they, they..."

_Please_, the ibex rolls it's imaginary eyes at me. _You can't even come up with a legitimate reason for that one_.

"Jackson." I say definitely to the lion hide. "It was that Jackson's fault. I didn't cross the line until he did, he went too far, he was a total pig, a real jerk, I was just.."

_Right_, the lion says. _So just because one stupid boy is a jerk, that gives you the right to blow up?_

I sit on the edge of my bed, the only one that looks slept in in the entire cabin. Burying my elbows in my knees, I rest my head in my palms. "It's this stupid face." I mutter to no one in particular. "It's this stupid... This body, I... I..."

And then my cheeks start burning. Most girls probably want to be beautiful, want to be treated like princesses. But, truly, my life would've been so much more simple if I was born hideously disfigured or something. An ugly girl can be strong and then she's known as the strong girl. But when a beautiful girl is strong, she's still known as only a beautiful girl. A beautiful girl is only beautiful to the world, nothing more. A beautiful girl has so much more to prove.

I stand and go back to the bathroom, staring at my reflection. I'm still wearing my armor, I must've forgotten to taken it off. I tear it off and throw it aside. Underneath, my long-sleeve blue shirt is sweat-stained and dirty. My gray pants are in the came condition. Stupidly, I place a hand just under my rib cage, another pressed against my hip. Turning in front of the mirror, a thought flies across my mind.

_Did Aaron really think I was pretty?_

The instant I think that, I run out of the bathroom, fling myself into my bed, and bury my face in my pillow. I scream as long as I can into the soft surface. I really hate being a girl, I really hate being a teenager, I hate being pretty, I hate, I hate, I hate...

I hate being a daughter of Artemis.

A knock on the door jack-knifes me into a sitting position. I move too fast and bang my head on the bottom of the top bunk. Rubbing my head, I open the door, gearing myself up for Chiron's lecture. I'm shocked to find Aaron Jackson standing on my front step.

"Hi." He says. "Can I come in?"

His hair is wet and lays flat against his head, so I assume he just took a shower. He's wearing a dark blue Aeropostale shirt, jeans with holes at the knees, and sandals. His lip is still split from my slap, but his face is clear of blood and looks friendly. So friendly that, before I know it, I'm letting him walk into Cabin 8.

He stands there quietly, taking in every detail of my home. "Nice place ya got here." He muses, sticking his hands in his pockets. "And you have it all to yourself?"

"Um, yeah." I say, shutting the door and standing awkwardly beside him "Sometimes the Hunters come to Camp and I share it with them, but that hasn't happened in years."

"Cool." He says simply, and plops down on the bed opposite of mine. He looks up at me and gestures for me to sit, which I do, keeping my arms crossed defensively and trying to avoid eye contact.

"So, how did it happen?" Aaron asks after a while.

"What?"

"How were you, ya know... _Born_, and all."

I'm a little shocked. Not the question I thought he would ask. Nor is it the question that anyone has asked. "Uhm, uh..." I stammer, trying to form a cohesive train of thought. "I don't know, I don't know how I was born, actually. Apparently, I just," I shrug, feeling really uncomfortable about this conversation. "I just _appeared_ on the Big House porch sixteen years ago."

"Mhm." Aaron nods.

"But Chiron hasn't told me anything, if he even knows anything." Now that he's got me speaking, I can't stop, it's word vomit. "Like who my dad is or whatever. My mom, I've never... I've never talked to her about it. I'm not sure she would tell me, so I never tried. I have a lot of theories, about who my dad was, or is, I suppose, but I just don't know who I would ask and I don't see how it's important so I don't worry about it." Out of breath, I wait for his reaction. _Way to go, Aspasia_, I think. _Just go ahead and tell your entire life story to this boy. What about that awkward stage from 12 to 16? Or that One Direction phase a few months ago?_

"Wow, that's... That's jacked up." He says.

"Yes," I nod, dubious. "I guess it is... _Jacked up_." He nods and we don't say much for a while. But it's not as uncomfortable as before, there's no tension in the air. After a while, I say, "I'm really sorry. About the arena, the fight and all that."

"Why?" Aaron asks, genuinely confused.

"For slapping you." I say slowly, like he's gone dumb for a moment.

"Why should you be sorry for that?" He says, smiling comfortingly. "You were just doing what girls should do: defending yourself against guys who are jerks." He stands up and I get up too, much to fast. We're standing a little too close for comfort when he says, "It's me who should be apologizing."

"Um, I-"

"Really," He holds his hand up to stop me. "I crossed a line. I crossed a line by telling the entire camp, I crossed a line when I made that comment, I crossed a line when I pulled your hair. It was stupid and I'm really sorry." His eyes are really bright. I can smell his body wash. Old Spice. I knew it.

"Um," I stammer. "Apology... Accepted. Thank you."

He shrugs. "No problem." He moves to leave, then turns around and says, "I hope you'll still consider training me."

"Didn't look like you needed training out there." I say sarcastically, raising a hand to my cut.

"Puh-lease." He says over dramatically. "You could've ended that fight in one minute if you wanted too." He looks me in the eyes, pleading. "Please. It would mean a lot to me."

I take in the sight of Aaron Jackson, pleading. He's extremely nice, I'm guessing most guys probably wouldn't apologize for winning a fight. He's funny too. And just... Just likable. It couldn't hurt to train him. Plus, the fight showed me how rusty I am at swordplay. It could help if I had a partner to get better with.

"After lunch, around three o'clock." I say definitely.

His smile brightens his tanned face. "It's a date."

I scowl. "It's _not _a date."

"Oh, it's _so_ a date." He jogs out the door. I go over and stick my head out.

"_Not a date_!"


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't own PJO. Go read my Hunger Games fanfiction called, "Broken Silence". Request a follow on Twitter reallyuseawish**

CHAPTER 7

"Keep your weight evenly distributed." I say. "Keep your back leg straight- I said straight, not bent ninety degrees!"

I'm standing in front of Aaron, watching him struggle into a fighting stance. He's getting better and he has good instincts, but sometimes, he's simply hopeless. I sigh as he struggles into a mediocre starting position, sword held uncertainly in front of him.

"Good." I say, moving to him. "But keep your chest turned in." I put my hands on his chest and move it for him. "That way, you make a smaller target." I try not to pay attention to the warmth or hardness beneath his Nike shirt. I look at Aaron's face and he's eyes are dark in concentration and he's sticking his tongue out, just a little.

"Okay." He says. "Okay, I think... I think I got it." I step back and nod in approval. He's catching on. I take up a practice sword and get into position, directly in front of him. There's silence. Then, he asks, "So... when do we start?"

"Start what?"

"Training?"

"We already have." I say. "You can't start fighting until your muscles are use to the strain of the proper position."

"So, we're just going to stand here?" He asks, dismayed. "Until when?"

I bring my watch to my eyes. "About... Let's say, three forty five."

"We're gonna stand here for _forty five_ minutes?!"

I nod, a little smug. No doubt, his muscles already start to ache. Mine do too, but only a little and I can work through it. "If you talk," I say. "It helps. It distracts you." He nods, and has a look of concentration for a moment, then says, "Who's your dad?"

"What?"

"Your dad. Who is he? I mean, I get that your mom is a virgin goddess and all, but you have to have a dad, right?"

"Um, I..." I'm trying to find the words but they won't come. No one has _told_ me who I am, so I suppose no one knows. No one has ever asked who _I_ think I am. "I don't know. I mean, sure, I have theories. But I have no idea what the truth is." I blush for some reason and focus on the banisters of the roof of the training area.

Aaron nods like I've divulged some great knowledge to him. He stays quite for a while, so I think of some nosy questions to ask him. I manage to say, "Do you get to see your dad often?"

Unlike me, Aaron seems totally unfazed by my question. "Sometimes, no a lot though. He's really busy with the school and I have and all... Ya know." He shrugs and I don't say anything more.

Percy Jackson, alongside Annabeth Chase and Chiron, created an alternative school in New York City for half-bloods. This way, demigods without a family can still get a normal education, like Statistics, Chemistry, and American Literature, alongside things they need to know to survive, like Monsters 101, Healing Arts, and Battle Strategy. To the mortals, it's simply an extremely prestigious school for a bunch of freaks. Percy heads the school as headmaster of a sorts, but from what I am told, he involves himself in the students' lives as much as possible.

I wonder what it's like, to have a dad. To have a mom, a _real_ mom. To belong to something bigger than yourself. I wonder what that would be like a lot.

We spend the rest of the forty five minutes in silence. After we're done, both with aching muscles, we do lunges back and forth across the arena. It's then when he asks, "Why aren't you a Hunter?"

"What?" I say, concentrating on my breathing.

"Why aren't you a Hunter?" I look at him strangely. "I mean, it kinda seems like the obvious choice for you. I mean, your mom is the goddess of the Hunt. Most people would assume you become one of them, I don't know, but you didn't. Why?"

I don't answer right away, just keep lunging across the sandy arena floor. "I don't know..." I mutter eventually. "I don't know why I didn't become a Hunter. I think... I think..."

"What?"

I shake my head. "I think," I straighten into a standing position. "I think we need to take a water break." And with that, I run out to the bathrooms.

I splash some water on my face, wiping away some of the sweat. I lean my head against the mirror, rejoicing in the blissful coolness of its surface. I feel the cold spread from my body covering me in a beautiful layer of breezy air. Then, something weighs in my stomach. The air _really is_ cooling, and has suddenly turned icy and painful. I lift my head up and scream.

In the mirror, were my reflection should be, is a beast made of shadow, yet somehow horribly real. Long sharp fangs and hollow eyes and a mournful wail like a tortured elephant. It leaps from the mirror into the bathroom and I stumble back to avoid being crush. Smoke pours out from the mirror, filling the bathroom with it's choking thickness. The beast circles around me like a wildcat, looking for a kill. I try and compose myself, try and call on my instincts, but something in the air, in my blood, is sending terror through me at a million miles an hour.

The beast leaps at me and I don't even move out of it's path. But when it should hit me, it disappears and I'm held captive in a searing hot grip. I try to call out to Aaron, but my voice fails me.

A voice suddenly fills my head. _Such a pretty little girl. So determined, so fierce. So unprepared_. The voice is distinctly female, but seems to blast from everywhere, like every molecule in space is shouting these words. I struggle to free myself, but to no avail.

_You made fine work of my troll. Just like I knew you would. But that boy, that Jackson, he stole your thunder, my girl. I'd watch that one closely if I were you. Not that you wouldn't enjoy that._ The voice gives a deep, menacing laugh. _I must say, dearie, he is a catch._

The grip around me suddenly tightens, roasting the little air in my lungs. My skin feels like it's about to blister when the voice whispers, _Watch your step, my girl. I will be making my move soon and I would simply hate for you to be caught in the cross-fire_.

And then I'm lying on the ground, the smoke gone, the fire gone. All that's left is my gasping and the cool tiles of the bathroom floor. I'm shaking, trying to catch my breath. Someone says something and takes me in their arms. These are real arms, strong and true. My vision has gone blurry, but when it clear I see Aaron, his eyes glowing with concern. When he's worried, his eyebrows crease in the most adorable way.

"Aspasia," His voice is colored with concern. "Aspasia, are you okay?"

"Nhmmmmmuhhhmmmyeaaaahhh." I think I say something along those lines.

"You screamed. I thought you might be hurt." He helps me to my feet. I'm a little shaky, but I try my best not to lean on him too much.

"No, no." My voice finally stabilizes. "I'm fine, I just got, um, dehydrated. Yeah, dehydrated." I nod, trying to convince him and me both. "Let's continue with the lesson."

Aaron looks dubious. "I think we should call it a day." I don't argue, just nod tiredly, and make my way out of the bathroom and arena. Aaron stays by my side the entire way, once or twice giving me worried glances. I think about telling him how I'm not a child and I can walk home myself, but I'd kinda like to make sure I don't faint or something stupid on my way their.

_I'd watch that one closely if I were you_. The words of the voice echos in my head. Who was that? She said the "troll" was hers. The smoke, the beast, it was so similar to my dream to other night. Something seriously twisted it happening and I don't know what to do about it.

Aaron gets me inside my cabin safely. When he leaves, I flop on my bed, hoping for some rest for my sore body and mind.

Of course, as soon as my eyes shut, I begin to dream.


	8. Chapter 8

**I don't own PJO.**

CHAPTER 8

I'm walking through a deep wood, it's green resonating. It's the kind of wood that we can only dream about nowadays, where the birds sing at the top of their lungs and animals scurry underneath the underbrush, giving you wary glances before running on.

I'm wearing a brown toga, cut short like Daisy Dukes at my thighs. The breeze in uncomfortable yet familiar. My hair is braided intricately away from my face, yet falls down to brush my shoulders. A bow rests in my hands as I trudge through the forest.

"Good day, my lady."

I look up over my shoulder and I see a boy in a tree, eating an apple. Really, he's a man. A very handsome man. His dark curly hair glints in the low light of the leaves. Stubble covers his face attractively, contrasting his shimmering green eyes. He's wearing a dark blue toga, a brown belt holding a short sword at his side. A bow and quiver are strapped to his back. His shoulders are broad and muscular and his arms are scarred, like an archer or hunter.

"How did you get up there?" I ask in a voice that seems so grand and beautiful compared to mine.

"I did what most normal people do. I climbed, my lady." He tosses the apple at me while he jumps down from his perch.

I hold up my hand and the apple falls. But when it hits the ground, it turns into a robin. Startled, it hops around for a moment before flying away. The man laughs in astonishment.

"You a truly something else, my lady." He says with a smile, stepping close. A little closer than friendly.

"Would you expect anything less of me?" I say, a smile growing on my face as he cups my cheek in his weathered hand and pull me close to him.

"Someone's feeling impish today." I step away, but in a flirtatious way.

The man sighs. "My lady is nothing if not contrary." He takes my hands in his over-dramatically, a mocking of gentlemanly behavior. I look him in the eyes and the darkness in them is so soft and inviting.

Wait. Weren't his eyes green?

In that instant, the light of the dream falters. The man freezes and holds my hands in a vice. His smile turns from sweet to sinister as the forest darkens around me. Cracks appear in the man's face and smoke curls out of them, wrapping me in choking hands. The air is squeezed from my lungs and I can't get out, I try to scream, but nothing comes, I'm trapped.

_I'd keep an eye on that one if I were you_, the voice reverberates all around me, shouting at me.

Suddenly, I jack-knife into a sitting position, the darkness of the cabin palpable. The sheets are wrapped around me in a sweaty jumble. The blood is pounding in my ears, my head is aching with the beat of my heart.

_I'd keep an eye on that one if I were you_.

I stand up and walk around a little, working the anxiety out from my limbs. I open the door and a rush of icy air sweeps into the cabin, sending goosebumps across my skin. The light of the moon shines bright tonight and I can almost feel the silvery strength of it pouring out into me. In the strange dark splotches across the rocky plains of the moon, I feel safe and secure. I know the moon is really a rock, millions of miles away, reflecting the sun's rays weakly back to earth. But I also know that it's my mother, making a slow journey across the midnight sky.

_Please talk to me_. I think. _Please help me. I'm so lost right now, I don't know what to do. Please, Mother. Please, help me._

The moons hangs in the sky, silent as ever.


	9. Chapter 9

**I don't own PJO.**

CHAPTER 9

Chiron says, "I know this is frustrating-"

"This is only frustrating because you won't listen to me!" I grab a fistful of hair, about to rip it out of my scalp.

I'm standing at the Council table, which is curiously still a ping-pong table. Chiron sits in his wheelchair form at the head, with Mr. D and the other Council leaders. Mr. D is twirling a vine between his fingers absently.

On my side of the table sits Lily Wright, daughter of Demeter, and Emmaline Aplin, daughter of Aphrodite. Annabeth stands in for the Athena Cabin, seeing as no one has the nerve to take her place. Across from us are the boys. Micheal Parker from the Apollo Cabin, Will Critcher of the Hephaestus Cabin, Daryl Weeks from the Ares Cabin, and Robert Thomas from the Hermes Cabin. All of them look a little uncomfortable to be hear, but they follow the argument adamantly.

"Aspasia," Chiron says in his infuriatingly understanding voice. "I want you to understand that we're doing everything-"

"But that's just it!" I interject. "Your _everything_ is _nothing_!"

"That's not true." Chiron says a little more forcefully. "We are reading ancient texts, investigating with the nature spirits to see if there is anyone who can identify the beast. We _are_ doing everything we can."

"But it's not enough." I try desperately to make them see. "You obviously haven't made any discoveries, and I saw another beast-"

"So you claim." Micheal mutters.

I glare at him. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"I'm just saying," He holds his hands up in a supplicating gesture. "It's awful convenient that you just _happen_ to be attacked by a beast that leaves no sign that it was ever there. And when someone discovers you, you're just lying on the ground without a mark on you."

I roll my eyes. "We're children of Greek Gods. I thought we were use to magical and strange."

Micheal runs an arrogant hand through his chocolate brown hair. "Like I'm saying, it's just weird no one else has seen the things you've seen."

"Anyway," I say. "It's not just the beast, whether you think it's real or not. I've been have really vivid, weird dreams with this voice and-"

"We all have dreams." Emmaline says to her lap. She looks up at me, her green eyes apologetic. "I mean, they could mean anything? Not necessarily some big conspiracy thing or evil thing, right?"

"Why would I lie about something like this? What do I gain?" I demand.

No one says anything, but there's tension in the air. Annabeth tries to say something, but Micheal cuts her off.

"How many friends do you have, Aspasia?" My name feels wrong in his voice.

"What does that have anything to do with it?"

"It's just a question." My silence seems to satisfy him. "And, when was the last time you were in the spotlight?" He doesn't let me answer. "When the monster attacked. And now, another mysterious attack has happened, you're having strange dreams. It's all a little convenient."

I almost laugh. "You think I made it up for attention?"

"I think," Annabeth cuts in. "That Micheal didn't mean that. I think he meant... I think he meant..." She tries to supply some explanation but just sits back in her seat, defeated.

"No, no I meant that." Micheal says.

"It's not that we think you're crazy." Lily says. "It's just, none of us know what you are like or what you can do and so we're, uhm, we just, like, we-"

"We don't know what to think." Will fills in her sentence.

"Maybe if you gave us more proof." Daryl says, almost bored. "A reason to believe you."

"My word should be enough!" I yell, feeling defensive and hurt.

"This is fantastic!" Mr. D says suddenly. "Such intense drama. Suspicion, intrigue, question about a beautiful young lady's honor, romance-"

"There's no romance in this equation." I say, not taking my eyes off Micheal.

"And what about young Jackson?"

This sends a course of electricity up my spine. "What about him?"

"It would explain some things." Emmaline says. "I mean, Aaron is great and a lot of girls would do things to get his attention."

"No one is judging you, of course." Robert says. "We just think-"

"So," I say, almost in tears and almost laughing. "I created a monster that almost killed me, killed that monster, fabricated a story about another monster, made up some spooky dreams, all for the attention of one _stupid boy_?!" I can't handle myself at the end and slam my hands on the table, making the surface rattle. There's silence for a while and I think my words over.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Jackson." I mutter to Annabeth. "That was mean."

"No, no, no." She says, rising to her feet. "You have every reason to be angry. These accusations are serious and seem to be mostly speculation. I would be just as furious." She seems to be on my side, but something in the careful enunciation of each syllable tells me somewhere deep inside her, she's mulling over the words that have been spoken.

"I think," Chiron finally says. "We should call it a day. We'll all continue doing our best to find the source of these events. And we'll all remember to keep an open mind." He gives each of us hard looks. The meeting ends in silence. As we all walk out, I lean against one of the columns in front of the door. The others pass by me warily, giving me sideways glances. Annabeth is the last one out and she stands next to me, taking in long breathes. "I always loved this view." She says, looking over the camp.

I don't respond. In front of us, the grassy plain of the camp is spotted with campers, lounging around in little groups. The sun is gently lowering itself through the azure sky. The air is warm and thick, the birds are singing soft melodies from the woods. Everything seems normal and soft and nice. But it isn't.

"This view," Annabeth says. "This place. This is the reason I've done everything I've done. To preserve this place." She takes a deep breath. "Listen, I don't know how to help you. I don't know what I can do to ease your way. But," She places a hand on my arm and looks me intensely in the eyes. "The last time I saw someone so devoted, so scared, so brave... Well, he was right about everything."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"I'm trying to tell you," She pauses. "That you have to keep looking. Keep fighting. Follow your instincts, Aspasia, and you'll find what you're looking for."

I'm really confused at this point, but I feel touched by this small gesture, this small glimpse of a mother's support. Annabeth keeps talking, telling me that she'll help me in any way possible, that she'll be behind me the entire time.

"And you must continue to train my son."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because, if you're right, and something dark is happening, we'll need all the help we can get. And," she bites her lip. "I want my son to be safe. He needs to be taught to defend himself. I've been a fool to put it off this long, but I've always wanted him to stay a boy. But wars and battles are not for boys; they're for men. And women, of course." She smiles and begins to turn away.

"Besides," She says, a smile coloring her words. "You both seem to be enjoying these lessons."

I open my mouth to protest, but decide that protesting will only embarrass myself and I let it be.


	10. Chapter 10

**I don't own PJO.**

CHAPTER 10

I'm standing in my cabin, every article of clothing strewn around me in a hopeless mess, and there is nothing I can wear.

A few weeks have passed since the Council meeting, and the others are still hostile and suspicious of me. Annabeth has been doing some intense reading, but has found nothing to help me understand what is happening. However, I have had no more dreams or attacks, so I think maybe the chaos has died down.

Aaron and I have been training, intensely, and I must say, he has come a long way. He can beat me most days in sword fighting and wrestling, though he'll never be able to match my agility or speed. And every day we practice, I glean a little more knowledge of him. I get an inch closer to him. I relax a little more in his presence.

Like yesterday. We fought hard with swords, so hard that mine broke and Aaron got a bruise on his ribs. A few minutes later, he was telling me funny stories of his middle school days. Like how he made the water fountain explode one day at school and how, when he was little, he use to make replicas of great monuments out of legos with his mom, like the Eiffel tower or the Great Wall. And how when he was little, monster would sneak into his room and try and kill him so much that his dad made a habit of sharing his room. They would spend the night making shadow puppets against the wall and telling funny stories and laughing as they tried to stay quiet so as to not make Annabeth suspicious. And Aaron says he would wake up in the morning laying on his dad's chest and he would no nothing would ever hurt him as long as he had his dad.

I think we're friends now.

Anyway, the summer solstice is today and a group of demigods are invited to the gala that is taking place at Olympus, including me and Aaron. Great, right? No. It's not great. All because of the word "_gala_". See, if it was a Solstice _Party_ or a Solstice _Barbeque_, that would entitle some kind of informality. But _gala_ adds a whole new layer of posh-ness and dress-up and clothes that I don't own.

I'm trying different combinations of things I already own, but nothing helps. Every article of clothing that I have is in some muted, boring shade. I can't keep pretending that changing the part in my hair will do me some good.

There's a knock on my door. Frustrated with the mess around me, I answer it. It's Annabeth, already dressed for the gala, and she looks stunning. Her curly blonde hair is tied in a small braid, then let down her back, free from her face. Her face is clear and bright, a deep shade of red painted across her lips. She's wearing a black dress with a sweetheart neckline (don't ask how I know that, I think I saw an episode of _Say Yes to the Dress_ once) and transparent black sleeves. Her dress is made in such aw way that it swirls around her in elegant waves, like the ocean.

"You look beautiful." I gasp.

"And you look unprepared." She lets herself into the cabin and surveys the mess. She looks at me and nods, with the determination of a way general. "Let's go to my room, I think I have just what you need." And she takes my hand, pulling me quickly behind her. Her dress flies around her like a huge black bird.

In Annabeth's room in the Big House, she sits me in front of a large vanity as she searches through her closet. She flings out several shirts, pants, and assorted object before she says, "Aha! Got it." She hides the dress from me, but I manage to get a glimpse of something silvery.

Then she gets to work preparing me. She ties my hair back in an elegant bun, reminding me of that princess movie _Anastasia_. She covers my face in a thin layer of powder, though I hardly need it, and begins to paint in my features. Thick, dark eyelashes, deep blue eye shadow, glossy pink lips. It's the first time in my life that I've ever tried improving my looks, and it gets tiresome very fast. I'm fidgeting in the chair so much she has to yell at me to sit still plenty of times.

After a while, she gets me up and slips me into the dress, eyes closed. The fabric feels smooth and silky against my skin. She helps me into a pair of heels that aren't dangerously high and then she lets me open my eyes to behold my reflection.

The young women in front of me is otherworldly. Her dress is strapless and long, pooling around her feet, and shimmers like pure moonlight has solidified around her in an elegant case. The slight shift of her feet sends the dress into gentle rises and falls, like the wind, and gives her the illusion of perfect grace. Her vibrant red hair contrasts the blue-silver sheen of her body. Her face is perfect, glowing like her dress, like the moon. She is the manifestation of the beauty of the midnight sky.

"I think," I whisper. "That this is the first time I've ever felt really beautiful."

Annabeth laughs. "No, no, no. _You _have always been beautiful. The dress is simply a sparkly accessory that gets tangled by your shoes and makes it hard to breath. Here." She hangs a transparent wrap around my shoulders, which does nothing for me at all. She also puts shimmery glass earrings on my and puts a thin silver chain with a matching glass bead around my neck.

"Now, that's that." Annabeth takes a step back to admire her work. "You look perfect."

"I don't feel perfect." I hug the wrap closer against me. "I feel weird and exposed and I think I need to re-apply deodorant."

"Don't be silly, you're fine." She says. "Though, maybe we should fix that deodorant problem."

When we leave the cabin, the sun is lowering itself gently into the sky. The others are waiting for us at the top of Half-Blood hill and the hike up there is grueling. Apparently, you're not allowed to grab all of your frustrating dress and walk up a hill like a normal person, oh no. A lady walks with miles of fabric tangling up her feet and yet she still manages to remain perfectly beautiful. Frankly, I think it's impossible. Yet Annabeth seems to do it with ease. So I guess it's just me.

When we reach the top of the hill, I'm panting and I've said many words that I don't want to repeat. Almost instantly, every eye locks on to me and I try and stop the blood rushing to my cheeks. I can't but be disappointed by the appearance of several of the Council members, including Micheal and Daryl. But I don't pay attention to the for long, because Aaron is waiting for me.

He's dressed in a striking black suit, but it looks cool and edgy somehow. His collar is high, and he's wearing something white that isn't a tie, reminding me of Mr. Darcy. The lapels of his jacket and his cuffs are a deep, dark blue. He has coat tails. _Coat tails_. Who else could pull off coat tails, but Aaron?

When I walk up to him, he says, "Wow. You look... Wow."

"Thanks." There's a moment of silence when we size each other up. I almost think we're about to go to a training session or something and I should tell him to do some push-ups. Or something. "You're mom," I finally say. "You're mom, she, um, she helped me get ready for this."

"Well, she did a good job of fixing you up."

"Uh..." I say, confused.

"No, not that-"

"It's okay, I-"

"I mean, you always look great."

"Thanks."

"Not that I always, ya know, pay attention to everything-"

"Yeah, I understand."

We stand in another pause for a while before Aaron starts laughing. His laugh, it's deep yet clear and bright. I start laughing with him, not knowing what's funny.

"Wow," He says. "I don't understand why I'm so nervous." He runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair and laughs again.

I open my mouth to say something, but a girl suddenly comes up beside Aaron. She's blonde and beautiful. I think I remember her from the fight at the arena. Anyway, she looks stunning, her hair straightened to perfection, her lips vibrant violet. Her dress wraps around her in violent shades of purple, orange, red, pink, and yellow. Like an abstract representation of a spring time meadow.

"Aspasia," Aaron says. "This is Colette Eyrie. Daughter of Demeter. Colette, this is-"

"Violent ginger chick?" She asks with the last traces of a British accent. "Ah yes, I'm aware of who she is." She gives a plastic smile, like she can say she was kidding but she's hoping to get under my skin.

"Nice to meet you." I say, a little proud of the gruff reality of my own voice. I hold out a hand to shake, but she just stares at it, almost humored by it, and decides to give a little curtsy. Of course she effing curtsies. She's gorgeous, she's British, and she freaking _curtsies_. Aaron looks really uncomfortable, glancing at her, then me, then her.

"So," I say awkwardly, dropping my hand. "Do you guys know when we're leaving?" Colette just shrugs and when Aaron opens his mouth, a long limo pulls up at the bottom of the hill. I'm assuming it's our ride and everyone runs down to meet it.

Out of the front passenger seat, a handsome man opens the door and pops out. His jet black hair is disheveled and messy, his face covered in a five o'clock shadow. He's tall and broad, darkened by the sun. His suit is black, but his tie is a sunny yellow. His face splits into a bright smile.

"Pardon me." He says, resting his weight against the limo. "But it seems like you folks are in need of a hero." He strikes a heroic pose and eyes the crowd around him to see if they're laughing. They are.

"You wouldn't happen to know a good one, would you?" Annabeth says as she makes her way through the crowd. The elation on her face and the face of the man is so pure and beautiful as they embrace each other and share a soft kiss.

I assume the man before me is _the _Percy Jackson.

"Hey Dad." Aaron steps forward and the two of them share one of those rough, father-son, slap-on-the-back kind of hugs that makes you wanna smile. They start wrestling a bit, messing each other's hair and such, when Chiron comes forward, looking dapper in his wheelchair form and a plaid bow tie.

"So good of you to actually get here on time, my boy." He says, with a kind of gruff fondness.

"What can I say?" Percy shrugs. "Traffic, it's a killer. Plus, you'd think a man with a bajillion eyes would be a good driver, but not so much."

"Whatever." Annabeth says. "Let's just get going."

"Of course." Percy rubs his hands together and opens up the passenger door. "Let's blow this Popsicle stand!"

We line up and make our way in the limo one by one. When I come up to the door, Percy says, "Are you the infamous Aspasia?"

"Guilty." I blush and smile as politely as possible.

"Well," He says. "I certainly hope you're not going easy on my son." He smiles brightly and I relax a bit.

"Wouldn't dream of it." I step into the limo and am a little disappointed. The inside takes the form of a school bus situation, with busted up brown seats and a dingy floor. I look for Aaron but find Colette sitting by him, pointedly ignoring me. A little embarrassed, I make my way to the back and plop down, already in a bad mood. For a while, I sit alone, simmering. However, after a while, a guy sits down next to me.

He's short and thin, his skin olive toned with a splash of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His hair is auburn, shifting from chocolate brown to reddish. He looks nice in a purple bow tie and gray suspenders. He turns to me and his hazel eyes are bright.

"Jean Hawkins. Son of Hecate." He holds out a hand.

"Aspasia Williams. Daughter of Artemis."

We shake hands and he says, "Yeah. I know who you are."

"Yeah, apparently a lot of people do." I sit back in the seat, probably ruining my image of a graceful lady with my awful posture.

"I wonder what it's like." Jean murmurs excitedly. "Olympus and all that."

"Probably big." I say. "Overcrowded. Posh. Probably not worth going too."

Jean looks at me and smirks. "Today isn't your day, is it?"

I look up at him. "Is it that obvious?" He nods and I smile pitifully. Well, at least I have a new friend.

We make our way to the city slowly and I can feel it coming. As we get farther and farther from the Wild, I feel something in me fade. Some kind of comfort and security vanishes once the buildings appear and the sky turns a kind of gray. The air tastes different in my lungs, feels different on my skin. I shiver and Jean puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. Normally, I would be weirded out by it, but the sheer warmth of his skin is enough to put me at ease.

The window at the front of the bus, which has the appearance of a normal separator between a limo driver and the passengers, drops down and Percy looks back at all of us.

"Welcome," he says. "To New York."


	11. Chapter 11

**I don't own PJO.**

CHAPTER 11

As I step out of the bus, I'm instantly aware of how unprepared I am.

My dress drags on the concrete, which makes me nervous, so I collect it up in my arms. Then, there are all these people, walking as fast as they can, looking really angry, and they all bump you and don't care and you get swallowed up in this crowd and feel like you're drowning and-

Someone takes my hand and pulls me to them. It's Aaron, his eyes bright with concern. He asks if I'm okay and I can only nod. He pushes his way through the crowd to the side of a building, with me following meekly in his wake.

As I catch my breath, leaning against the hard wall, Aaron puts an arm around me. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." I say. "Yeah. The city, it's just, ya know..."

"Overwhelming? Exhausting? Scary?" He supplies.

"Yes. All the above."

He smiles and starts to say something when I hear Colette's voice. "Aaron!" We turn and see her and the rest of the group at the door of the building next to us. "Come on!" She looks impatient.

"She's something else." I mutter as we make our way to the door.

"Mean. Catty. Bitchy?"

"Yes. All the above." I can't help but smile at the distaste in his voice.

Inside, people stare at us, the group of beautifully dressed teenagers in the Empire State Building. The man behind the desk looks like he's about to have a heart attack as he hands the key over to Percy. Most everyone can fit into the elevator at once. By _most_, I mean everyone except me, Colette, and some weirdly hunch backed kid from the Hephaestus Cabin. Percy tells us to go on the next one up. As the doors close, my mind is flooded with the look of pity on Aaron's face and the look of ironic humor on Jean's.

The ride up for us is awkward. The boy from Hephaestus keeps fiddling with his tie, looking like he might strangle himself at any moment.

I look over at Colette and say, "You're dress is beautiful."

"Thanks." She says, giving me a casual, almost lazy glance. "It's from this little boutique from France."

"Cool." I try not to cringe at the sound of condescension in her voice. "I've always wanted to go to France." This launches her into a monologue about her time spent there, how awesome it was, how exciting her life was there, all the interesting things she did. This gives me enough time to decide that Colette is a girl of low self-esteem, who needs constant gratification from others to make her feel good about herself. I am almost pitying her when the elevator dings, the doors open, and the glory of Olympus shines on us.

It's beautiful, with little temples and shrines built in gold and silver and copper and gardens and trees blooming in the most impossible places and fountains sparkling and birds singing and music playing softly and I sigh, because Olympus is everything it's suppose to be.

The rest of the group is waiting for us. I try and make my way to Aaron, but I'm swept up in the rush to the gala that I have to settle for Jean. Not that that's settling. We start talking and I find him very funny and helpful, as he helps me make sure I don't trip over my dress.

"I feel like a bridesmaid." He says as he carries my train. "I feel so pretty." He pretends to tear up and I laugh.

The gala is held inside a temple like building, with open walls and pillars. The Muses are set on the stage, playing magical instruments that can be heard as anything you want. Punch bowls that fountain into the air and golden plates laden with lush fruits and appetizers line one side of the dancing area. Opposite of them are long benches for sitting and talking.

The dance floor is filled with godlings and Olympians alike, all looking young and beautiful and mighty. I would feel ugly and under dressed, but I am currently doing what most everyone else is doing.

I am looking for my mother.

I can't spy her silver glow among the other luminous sheens of the rest of the gods. I let out a disappointed sigh.

The rest of the night is a slow blur, if that makes sense. It's all polite "Good evening, my Lord" and "Good evening, my Lady." Handshakes with people who give me slightly uncomfortable glances when I tell them I am Artemis' daughter. Questions about my prospects(whatever those are) and my favorite activities(does eating, sleeping, and sulking count?) and my opinion on the gala(which is everything that is lovely and disappointing).

Barely an hour has passed, everyone is avoiding me now that they've made the obligatory greetings, and everyone I know is dancing. I'm grazing at the snack tables when I bump into Jean. His face is lit up by a grin and his bow tie is slightly off kilter.

"This is great!" He says brightly. "Everyone is so pleasant and it's so beautiful here!"

"Yeah." I say. "It's great."

His eyes darken with sympathy. "I'm sorry you're not having fun. Here," He holds out his hand. "Let's dance."

I smile. "That's sweet, Jean. But no. You..." I reach over and straighten his bow tie to perfection. "You go have fun." He starts to say something, but thinks better of it and just shrugs, walking away dishearten. After making my way through six tables laden with decadent food and gulping down six glasses of punch, I find myself sitting alone on a bench. The air has turned slightly chilly and I tighten my grip on this useless wrap.

I don't know how long I'm alone, but eventually Aaron makes his way through the crowd to plop down beside me, his jacket gone by now and his hair slightly messier.

"Nice party." He says.

"Yeah." I murmur as I watch all the pretty people laugh and dance in shimmering clothes. "It's perfect."

"Meh." He shrugs. "Not perfect. Just... Nice."

I let my head roll back and I look up at him. The orange-gold light warmed his already tanned skin. He looked almost sad, almost pensive. Not quite, but almost. Like he was standing on the edge of unhappiness and was scared to go any further because once he took that step, he would find more reasons to stay unhappy that he wanted to.

Without thinking I let myself lean on him, my head resting on his shoulder. I feel him look down on me quizzically and when his body moves beneath me, I'm sure he'll pull himself out from under me. Instead, I find him lowering his tall, broad shoulder down to a height that lets me rest more comfortably. I let myself smile, only a little bit.

"It must be nice," I mutter. "Being part of it all." My eyes shift focus and the dance floor turns into blurs of light and colors. Now, I see me and Aaron's knees in perfect clarity.

"I guess it would be nice." Aaron replies.

"Are you kidding?" I give a small laugh. "You're the definition of being part of something." I feel him shake his head slowly.

"No, it's, it's..." He takes a moment to think. His left knee bounces a few times. "It's not the real Aaron. It's this, this fake Aaron that's all jumbled up by what everyone says he is." He laces his fingers together to demonstrate the concept. "The Aaron that's perfectly following in his father's footsteps, that is a charming young man, that shows a lot of promise, that's the Aaron that's a part of the world."

"And who are you?" I whisper.

"That's a good question." I look up at him and his eyes are glassy. He looks at me from the corner of his eyes and smiles. "Would you like to dance?" He stands, trying to shrug off the gloom that has settled on him, and holds out his hand to me.

I look from his face, to his hand, then back again. I'm about to take it when Annabeth comes rushing forward, looking like a hurricane.

"Aspasia." She says darkly. "Come quickly, me and Percy need to speak to you."

I look at Aaron, confused, but follow his mother out of the building without looking back. I can feel Aaron's gray eyes burrowing into my back.

Annabeth takes me to a huge, dark building filled with books near the center of Olympus. Percy is waiting, a torch in hand and a large, leather bound book in hand.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Well,"Annabeth says. "The gala isn't the only reason me and my husband are here. We're here for information."

"What do you mean?"

"When I was looking for answers in the Camp's library, there were... Gaps. Missing pieces to a large puzzle. At first, I thought it was just campers being careless, but then I went further back and-"

"You see," Percy cuts in, looking excited in the dim light. "The Camp has books dating back to the very beginning. From the first set of campers and beyond. Books that contain stories that even the gods may have forgotten. And those books-"

"And _those_ books," Annabeth says, giving Percy a pointed look. "Are kept under lock and key, for safe keeping. There's also a hex on the books, that anyone who takes them without permission from Chiron will have stained black hands until the book is returned. But when I checked on these books-"

"Some were missing." I finish.

"Not _some_." She corrects. "_One_. This one." She takes the book from Percy and shows it to me. The light flickers of the dark, reflective writing. The words are in a language that I don't understand, but just looking at it, my skin crawls and I hear faint whispering.

"How did it get here?" I think about reaching out and touching the book, but my better judgment tells me no.

"We don't know." Percy says. "We think the thief may have stolen it from the Camp and put it here to keep it from Annabeth."

"But why here?" I ask. "Isn't this kinda an obvious place to put it?"

"Yes," Annabeth nods. "It is. But it's the only place besides the Camp that the thief could put the book and get rid of the hex. Because the books at Camp _technically _belong to Olympus."

I nod, trying to wrap my head around it all. "So what's the book about?"

"That's the thing." Annabeth frowns. "The thief must've put a binding spell on it, a very complex one."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," She opens to book to show me. I flinch, but realize there are only blank pages inside it. Empty page after empty page.

"How..."

"Magic." Percy says, setting the lantern on a table. "Only the thief can read the book. Unless we can break the spell."

I reach out to take the book from Annabeth's hands. Instantly, I feel a pit in my stomach. Sweat breaks out on my forehead and my joints lock. Slowly, faintly, I see black figures begin to show in the page, forming words and sentences in the strange language.

Percy gasps. Annabeth takes a step back in shock. Her eyes take a trip to shock to confusion to eureka to cold anger. In that instant, I look closely at the words and they shimmer and form the single sentence.

_Watch your step, my girl._

"Stop!" I shout. "It's a trap, it's a-"

Boom.

There's the painful sensation of being thrown back at a million miles an hour, the air leaving your lungs and your heart being paralyzed for a minute or two. The entire library explodes into a cold, evil green. My hearing is replaced by a violent ringing that shakes me to my core. I lay on the ground, faintly aware of a large piece of rubble perched right about me, but I can't move, I can't breath, I can't think.

_Watch your step, my girl._

_ Watch your step, my girl._

_Watch your step, my girl._

_ Watch your step, my girl._

_Watch your step, my girl._

Eventually, my hearing comes back slowly. I hear screaming and rushing wind and water, running and shouting. I also hear the harsh groans of building as the fire spreads across Olympus. I crawl, slowly, slowly, out from under the rubble, careful not to dislodge it. Miraculously, besides a cut above my right eyebrow and my cut-up, tangled dress, I'm fine. Where the library once stood, only piles of broken building and burning books remain. People are searching through the rubble, calling names that don't make any sense to me. Someone sees me and points and shouts and others come running. I think they're coming to help. When they get to me though, the pull out shimmering weapons and start yelling.

I turn and start running as fast as I can. Someone makes a grab for me and, without thinking, I twist around and deliver a stunning kick to the guy's head. Another slash at me with his sword. I jump back, then punch him in the nose. He falls to the ground, clutching his bleeding face. Another makes a move towards me. At least, I think he does, and my instincts are in overload. I kick him in the chest. He stumbles back and, as he gains his balance, I deliver a blow to his throat. He makes a choking sound and falls to the ground. In my daze, I stumble as I gaze at the men lying on the ground around me. I look up and see more people rushing towards me.

I start running. Running as fast as possible, faster than you could ever believe you could run. And not thinking. No, not thinking at all. Just surviving. Not thinking about how everyone thinks I'm crazy, I'm a traitor, I'm a thief, I'm... I don't even know. I just can't think about that right now, I can't think about Aaron searching through the rubble, calling for his parents, knowing that I'm the reason he can't find them and-

Falling.

Falling so fast and so far and you're hair is flying around your face and your clothes are whipping around you and you're screaming and shouting and crying and you don't know what to do and you don't want to die, you don't want to, you really don't want to die, you're not ready, please, please, don't let me die, please, please...

I never knew Olympus had an edge.

My mind eventually lets my consciousness fade away. Not before I become aware of something hard and sharp grabbing me so fast, my head bangs around so hard, I think it might snap off. As the blackness wraps around me, a voice says, _Don't worry, Lady Princess. I will keep you safe._


	12. Chapter 12

**I don't own PJO. Request a follow the_last_sass. Read my Hunger Games fanfict, "Broken Silence".**

CHAPTER 12

When I wake up, I'm flying.

The air is whistling through my hair like screams. My muscles are stiff, scrunched up into the fetal position. Around me, a scaly, rough foot that ends in sharp talons embraces me. And connected to the foot is the rest of a giant eagle. Shimmering gold feathers formed strong wings the size of school buses. I opened my mouth to scream when a deep voice said in my head, _Be still, Lady Princess. I would hate to drop you._

So I rest my head against the rough surface that surrounds me. I feel a little listless as I watch the city move beneath us. It is still night, the lights are still burning against the dark. Slowly, I turn myself around, wincing at my several aches and pains. The Empire State Building is clearly defined behind us. The Mist is shifting constantly, but I can still make out the burning outline of Olympus.

_They think that's because of me_, I think. _They're blaming me._

"Where are you taking me?" I ask the eagle, my voice croaking.

_To someone who will help you._ And he says no more. And neither do I. I simply watch the glowing light of New York race underneath me. I start seeing Aaron's face, covered in the grime and dust of the rubble of the library, searching for his mom, his dad, and his gray eyes are blazing with one question: _Why?_

The light beneath me begin to blur. I rub my eyes roughly with my fists.

Eventually, the eagle lets me down on the roof of a tall building. _This is where I must leave you, Lady Princess._

"Where are you going?" My voice seems so small and quiet, here on top of this windy building.

_My Lord Zeus will be wondering where I am soon._ He says. I can see from here that his eyes are a vibrant ruby. Soft and endearing. _A friend will be here soon to help_.

As he speaks, soft clicks turn my attention to the other side of the building. Standing there is a deer, a stag really, glowing of pure silver. Ir's horns shimmer a pale gold and the light around it is shining. You would think it was a statue if not for it's panting sides, it's eyes blink warmly at the sight of your face.

"Argent." I whisper in relief. "You're here." I take a step towards him but find myself collapsing in tears. Miraculously, I find his warm, soft body beneath me to catch me.

_Hush, Lady Princess_. His voice, as always, is soft and wraps around me. _I will help you. But we must leave at once._

I nod and hoist myself on his back. "Thank you," I say to the eagle. He nods, and with a great flap of his giant wings, shoots off into the sky. Soon, he is nothing more than a speck in the midnight sky.

Argent takes a deep breath and begins running towards the edge of the building. I grab handfuls of his fur, bracing myself.

Argent leaps from the building, straight to the wall of the neighboring one. He pushes off from that wall gracefully and then lands gently on the street. The pedestrians don't give us a single look, don't stop walking. And Argent doesn't stop running. Running like a screaming, shining silver wind.

Argent is my mother's steed. Her symbol. Her animal guide. Among other things, he's one of the few creatures that she trusts unconditionally. One of the few creatures that she would send to help me.

"Why did the eagle help me?" I say, muttering into his neck, knowing he will hear me no matter what.

_He remembers the days before he was Zeus' lieutenant. The days when he lived in the wild_. And he says no more, only runs faster.

The landscape changes, from gray blurs to green and brown. I look over my shoulder and see the shaky outline of the city. The sun is rising, turned the darkness to gray then to pink then to gold. It's beautiful.

I turn away.

"Where are we going?"

_Somewhere no one will look. _Argent's voice is gasping, even as he speaks to me in my mind. _Somewhere very far. It is called-_

A blazing ball of fire hits the earth, missing us by millimeters. Argent leaps away from the blazing dirt, turning around swiftly to face his attack. High above us, golden lights hover around, pulsing strongly.

"What are they?" I ask, horrified yet mesmerized by their glowing power.

_Sentries. Sent by the Olympians to capture us._ Argent stamps a hoof into the ground, then begins running again, faster than ever. The sentries follow us at blazing speed, mimicking our every move with pinpoint accuracy. In a moment of pure adrenaline, I summon my bow and shoot an arrow at one. It burns into a crisp before it can even pierce it.

They send fireball after fireball at us, getting closer and closer, yet Argent dodges each one. One, however, gets so close that the train of my dress catches on fire. I scream and rip the entire train off, leaving only a ragged skirt to cover me. And Argent just keeps running.

Eventually, they begin to fall behind. This is at the point where I'm sure we've crossed national borders, if not continents. The ground beneath Argent's racing hooves is a kind of grayish white. I think we're safe when Argent suddenly stops on a dime. I shoot forward, colliding with his solid neck. We're standing on a rocky shore of a frothy sea. The air is extremely cold and salty. Something strange fills the air. The Mist is strong here and shift continually, but I can't tell why. The sentries begin closing in.

"Go!" I shout, trying to urge Argent forward.

_This is the Great River, Lady Princess._ Argent says worriedly. _The river that wraps around the world. Beyond this is oblivion. There's nowhere-_

"We don't have a choice!" I yell, desperate and afraid. The sentries are too close now and one launches a fire ball. "Go!"

Argent leaps just in time. The place where we stood is now smoldering. As Argent's hoofs connect with the water, the waves freeze just long enough for him to take another step, and then melt. He begins racing away like this, perched precariously on momentary ice. The sentries stop dead at the water's edge, hesitantly hovering inches above ground. They begin to grow smaller and smaller as we get farther and farther away. A small smile makes it's way onto my face.

Argent runs for a while, the ocean eventually calming to an almost glass-like flatness. He doesn't say anything, but I know he's getting tired. I can tell from the labored way his chest breathes beneath me and from the excess of heat radiating off him.

I begin to wonder how much more he can handle when a thin strip of gray appears on the horizon, wrapping itself all around the blue. As we get closer and closer, the faint outline of trees can be made out. My heart soars for a moment, euphoric over the advantages of a forest, then it settles. The trees and a solid, uniform gray, with deep black scars littering their trunks. Thick mist covers the forest floor, so much that undergrowth can't be seen.

Argent steps onto the sandy shore and waits till I'm on my feet to collapse on the ground. I instantly am next to him, stroking his fur and whispering soft words to him.

"Thank you." I say. "Thank you, Argent. You are my savior."

_It is an honor to serve the Lady Princess._ Argent's voice is faint, but grows strong ever moment. I cradle his huge head in my lap, avoiding the sharpened points of his antlers, as he regains strength.

"Do you know where we are?" I ask.

_I cannot be sure,_ Argent says. _But it seems like we are on the border of the Darker Woods._

"Darker Woods?"

_The last bits of Chaos. The farthest reaches of the world_. He says. _When the world was yet to be made, there was only Chaos. From that came Night and Darkness and then, miraculously, Love. From Love, the rest of the world was made. But the Darker Woods, that is where the last strands of Chaos lives. The raw material of creation._

I ruminate on that as Argent rests. After a while, I help him regain his footing. Although a little shaky, he can stand and seems better.

_Now_, he says. _I must find your mother. She sent orders to keep you safe till you were in her keeping._

"What am I suppose to do?"

_Wait here_. _The sentries were just the start. They will be sending more creatures after you. But none will look for you here. Just stay hidden and whatever you do, never enter the Darker Woods._ His eyes harden for a moment. _No matter what, do not hide in the Darker Woods. Not even Zeus would brave their depths._

I nod in silence. Argent nuzzles my face for a brief moment before running out on the sea once again. Eventually, his shining hide disappears over the horizon.

I sit on the beach, letting the cold water numb my feet. The sky is a light gray and no clouds smear it's surface. I take the time to clean myself up. I wash my face free of dust and dirt and sweat. I rip off my annoying shoes and throw them as far into the ocean as I can. I'm freezing, my tattered dress offering little protection from the sea wind. Bored as well as cold, I bury my legs under a layer of sand. Not much better. But I manage to trace swirls and smiley faces in the sand with my hands, so I kill a little time.

I feel a little hollow right now. Like when Argent was running, I somehow dropped my capacity to feel anything. And now, not a single emotion exists. Then, the hollowness turns into an ache, a resounding ache. The ache slowly turns into a stab of grief and anger and rage and regret and sorrow and guilt and confusion and I find myself weeping, crying louder and harder than I ever have before. I cry and cry and cry and begin to almost chant, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so..."

After a while, I find myself curled up in the fetal position, my limbs stiff from the cold. I manage to sit up, working some heat into my veins. I look to the horizon and see lights. I think they're Argetn so I call out.

I am wrong.

At first, it appears to be only two sentries. Then, the sky begins to glow with hundreds and hundreds of light, burning like a thousand suns. A scream of horror works it's way up my throat, but dies on my lips. My heart has stopped beating, I don't think it can start again. Instantly, I try and look around for something to defend myself with.

Nothing.

Then it hits me. The only thing that can protect me is the thing that will almost certainly kill me. I look back to the edge of the Woods. The eerie mists, the scarred, dead trees. Every one of my instincts tell me to run in the opposite direction.

And yet I still find myself running into it.


	13. Chapter 13

**I don't own PJO. Sorry I haven't been updating recently. School has been really hectic with the musical coming up in a few weeks (Fiddler on the Roof. Whoot-whoot) so don't expect much.**

CHAPTER 13

The instant I enter the Darker Woods, my life turns into an endless blur of attacking and being attacked. Once inside, the mist is not nearly so thick and reveals strange, gray mushrooms littering the ground. Suddenly, they shake and open blood red mouths full of sharp teeth that hunger for my flesh. The trees that once stood so still and dead and scared now reveal horrible creatures growing out of their tortured trunks, bats and dragons and ghouls, all the same, mutilated gray, with death eyes that claw for you, no matter how far you go. And the sky, once filled with golden light that filled you with fear, is now thick and stale and reminds you of death and decay and sometimes, the air is filled with a strange cloud that makes you choke and you fall to the ground and when you wake, you are being dragged by a wolf-like thing, back to it's cave and there is no time to scream, no time to fear, no time to panic, because all you can do is kill, kill or be killed, and once you've killed, you must start running again. You must run and never stop because the moment you do, you're dead.

I start to believe that I _am_ dead. That I'm dead and this is my eternal punishment. Maybe I did that awful thing that they think they did. I can't remember what it was or if I actually _did_ do it or not. Maybe I'm lost in this awful place forever. I'm lost and I can't remember why. I tear the silvery dress that hangs around me to start a small fire. I can't remember where I got it or why I was wearing it. Whenever the sky turns darker and the air colder and even eviler creatures crawl through the woods, I climb a tree, clutching my bow and quiver, that came from somewhere, I don't know, and I look up into the sky and I see that shining circle and I know, I _know_ it means something, but I can't remember what it means.

I have forgotten the sounds of my name.

The Woods have no end, truly they don't. I would have found it long ago. And the Woods are relentless. I am not allowed to rest, even for a moment, without being attacked. I am never at peace. I have become wild.

I don't know how long I have been in the Woods. I can't remember life when I wasn't in the Woods, but I can remember that there _was_ once a time where they were not my prison. I am in the Woods long enough for my body to waste away, so much that each night, I see more and more of the bones beneath my skin. I eat whatever I can. Anything that attacks me that I can kill, I do. And I eat it. Because there's nothing else I can do.

One day, as I am prowling through the Woods, I hear something unfamiliar. Something that means something and yet nothing at the same time. It is loud and uncovered. I make my way to it, silent and wary. I peek from behind a tree at the source.

Ten people are moving slowly, almost limping, through the Woods. Each of them is covered with some sort of bronze armor. They holds swords and spears and bows and look frightened. All of them are injured in one way or another. One of them in the front, a blond girl with a bandaged arm, leans heavily on another, a tall one whose face is lowered to the ground. This one's shoulders are slumped, his gait is heavy. They all look so weak, so damaged, something in me is stirring and I open my mouth to utter the first words that I've said in lifetimes when a shriek fills the air.

I look up and a giant troll is tearing through the Woods, incensed by the very sight of the warriors, ripping up whole trees, it's cries echoing in the dark silence of the Woods. Most of the warriors can't think to do anything but hide in the undergrowth, behind trees, quaking in terror. But some, the tall one included, stand firm, weapons drawn and glowing. But in the shape they are in, they won't last long.

The troll slams his fist down, crushing one camper and scattering the rest. The tall one slashes at its hand. The troll recoils, screaming in pain, but recovers and tries to swipe the tall one away. He ducks and the hand crushes two other warriors who weren't so lucky. The blonde girl cries out and the tall one, in an instant of distraction, is grabbed by the troll. He struggles, but to no avail. He will be killed, surely.

I summon my bow and I am launching volley after volley of arrows at the troll. They mostly stick, but do nothing but annoy it. However, in that first burst of pain and confusion, it drops the tall warrior. He hits the ground hard, but jumps up in an instant. Instead of facing the troll, he looks around for something. He stops when he sees me, standing in the darkness of the forest. His eyes are gray. Gray and soft. His handsome face tightens like electricity suddenly courses through his veins. He opens his mouth to say something, but the sound of the troll's bellowing smothers his words.

The troll takes a giant leap, clearing the warriors, and setting itself almost on top of me. Before I can even process, I find myself running, running fast and hard. I have forgotten the warriors, they mena nothing now. The troll is chasing me, crushing trees trying to swat me, sending them splintering in opposite directions. My breath is ragged and hurts, but I keep running, because that's all I can do. I trip once and land on my butt, my entire vision filled by the mass of the troll, stampeding towards me.

I scramble to my feet, tearing at roots and plants, trying to get running again. I barely manage to escape from being crushed under its foot. I begin to start panicking and I can't do that. I can't panic. Because when you start to panic, your vision goes blurry and your hands start to shake and you don't know where you're running, you just know that you're running and you have to keep running or else you'll die.

Yes. I can't panic.

And then suddenly, the troll is gone. The trees are gone. I have stumbled into what looks like a huge, grassy clearing. I can't tell how far it goes because all around it, the edges are blurred by a thick mist. I almost keel over, out of breath, before the thought comes to me. The Darker Woods has no meadows, no clearings.

I jack-knife up, my bow instantly in hand. Behind me, the warriors stumble out of the Woods, some collapsing on the ground, moaning. I whip around, bow drawn, the tip of my arrow finding it's target between the eyes of the man with the gray eyes. He does not flinch, only looks at me, with something of a mix between awe and pain, and says one thing.

"Aspasia."

That's, that's... That word means... It's, It's something important, it's...

Before my mind can connect the dots, the clearing is suddenly smashed with a wall of black mist, the force of which knocks me down. And then, I feel something slowly pulling me farther and farther into the clearing. Some of the warriors scream, but I just let it take me. The mist is so thick, my mind goes numb from it. The last thing I hear before I go under the spell of the black mist is a voice saying, _Welcome, my girl._


	14. Chapter 14

**I don't own PJO. Thank you everyone for all the positive reviews, they mean a lot to me.**

CHAPTER 14

I'm sitting in a chair, connected to it with firm bronze chains. I shaking and pulling and tearing and trying to ripe myself free, but to no avail. I don't know why, but I'm crying, boiling hot tears that leaves tracks on my cheeks, and I'm screaming and screaming and roaring and cursing and I need to get out, I need to get out now.

Aspasia.

I see the boy say that word over and over, the way his lips moved, his skin glistened, his eyes glowed as those four syllables escaped from his throat.

Aspasia.

I began to remember in two ways. One, an explosion, followed by a rush of images and flashbacks and words and memories. And the other, a slow trickle that filled up the empty space of confusion to form a hard cornerstone. I don't know how that makes sense, but that's how it happened.

My name is Aspasia. I'm seventeen years old. I like to run and to shoot. I like animals. I'm really good at braiding hair, though when I do it to my own, it looks lopsided. I like corner pieces to brownies. I still bunny ear my laces sometimes. My favorite Disney princess is Mulan, closely followed by Belle and Rapunzel. My mom is Artemis and I'm pretty sure she hates me. I have a pair of blue boots with yellow birds on them that Chiron gave to me when I was little that I hated back then but I still keep them because they make me smile. I like cardigans and sweaters.

And the boy's name is Aaron.

I think I liked him. I'm not sure about that one.

Now, I am sitting in the chair, breathless, my hair in tangles all around my face. I'm sweating profusely and I don't know why, because the air is chilling. More memories. My comb back home is green. I use Degree deodorant.

I sit back, allowing my neck to rest on the back of the chair. My muscles are slowly, slowly relax and mold themselves to the firm shape of the chair. The room that I'm in is all white, no corners, no shadows, only white. If you look at it long enough, you start to see little patterns and colors and shapes that aren't there. I find myself nodding off when suddenly, the white is scarred by a doorway into a long gray hallways. Three armored figures enter, their faces covered by dark metal. Without a single word, they come forward to under my bindings.

I don't hesitate, I kick one straight in the face. He topples back, his centre of gravity thrown off by the armor. My left hand is free from the chains, I grab another one's neck, jamming it's face into my knee. He's down, the other takes a shocked step back. I take that one second and kick him in the knee, bringing him down to my level. I deliver another blow to his throat. While he tumbles to the ground, I manage to wiggle my way out of the loosened chains. I leap for the door and as I round the corner, my heart stops.

There are at least thirty of the soldiers standing in tight formation, another thirty falling into place down the other corridor. They stand silent for a moment, staring at me from behind their sleek helmets. Then, they part in the middle and a raven-haired women steps forward, clad in a tight leather suit that shines like a polished piano. She stands inches from me, eying me inquisitively. Her eyes are radioactive green.

"This is the infamous Aspasia?" She isn't the women from my dreams, her voice is smooth and without edges, like a shadow running through a dark forest. The women peeks into my cell, where the three guards still lay, moaning. She gives a little laugh. "How endearing." She turns around on her heel and the sound of her heels clicking echoes the halls. I almost think she's forgotten me when she looks back and says, "Come along, Missy."

The guards huddle around me in a tight formation, almost quivering in anticipation, but I make no move to break free as they guide me down the dark halls. There are too many of them, for one thing, and I don't know where Aaron is.

I can't leave this place without Aaron.

The women leads us down twisting halls, all made of some shiny black rock, like obsidian. Huge tapestries hang on the walls, depicting dark, smoky figures. Eventually, we get to a huge, black oak door, intricate carvings dug deep in it's surface. The women waves her hand and the door slowly opens.

It's a huge dining hall, just as black and cavernous as the rest of the place, but candles hang in the air, suspended from anything. A huge bear rug, complete with snarling head and wicked claws, covers the floor beneath a huge, heavy black table. A grand chair is at the head of the table, turned away from us, looking out of a huge window that takes up the entire wall. Out of the window, I see the dark, misty abyss of the Darker Woods.

"Welcome, my girl." This is the women from my dreams. Her voice heavy and growing and softening then hardening and resonating and deep and smoky and airy and everything else.

The chair turns around and a white haired women is sitting in it, lounging in it like a bored cat. She's startling beautiful, but the kind of beauty that makes you want to run away and scream because of it's intensity. She's cloaked in black, but the train of her dress in constantly floating and changing shape, like smoke or ink in water. Even her hair, when she moves, morphs like smoke in the wind.

"Please, please, sit, my child." She waves her hand and a chair, thick and sturdy appears across the table from her. The raven haired women, now standing firmly by the door, glares at me and I stiffly take a seat. I eye the room, taking note of the position of every guard.

"Now, now, don't get any ideas." She presses her hands together to form a steeple. "We wouldn't want you causing a scene. I simply want to speak with you, my dear girl, and hear how you've been." She gives a stunning smile that sends shivers up my spine. I remain silent.

"And just to ensure the peace," She snaps her fingers and a door at the side of the room opens and, dragging thick chains behind them, Jean and another boy stumble into view, surrounded by guards. I can't help myself, I let out a minute gasp. The women in the chair chuckles.

"I thought I'd use the semi-important friends first. I have to save the more desirable ones for when I really need something." She smiles like this makes perfect sense.

"Let them go." I demand. Jean makes eye contact with me, his own hazel eyes weary. The boy with him, a tall, tanned blonde, looks like he might fall over at any moment.

"And where would we be then?" She shakes her head, disappointed.

"Who... Who are you?" I ask, my breath coming out angrily.

"I'm insulted, my dear, that you haven't figured it out." Silence. "Not even a guess?" I stare at her evenly, trying to keep my nerve. But it's hard because her eyes and a glowing black, constantly shifting.

"I am Chaos."

I actually let out a stiff laugh. But Chaos says, "What? Is it so hard to believe?"

"Chaos isn't a person. It's just a, a shapeless mass of nothing. It's just the building blocks of what we have now."

"And who told you that, an Olympian?" She shakes her head, smiling. "Leave it to the gods to never give credit where credit is due." She levels her eyes with me, her eyes burning into my soul. "_I am Chaos_."

My muscles suddenly clench and my stomach is in knots and my lungs are crushed and my heart stops for a moment before hiccuping back into action.

I decide to believe her.

"What do you want from me?" I ask, trying to seem brave, but the tremor in my voice gives me away.

"I think I'm in a better position to ask questions, my dear." She smiles sweetly. "Now, have you figured out who your father is?"  
I'm shocked, almost by a physical blow. "What, what are you talking- I don't have to answer you!"

"Oh, do you?" She waves her hand and one of the guards guarding Jean lifts the butt of his sword and slams it into the other boy's head. He instantly hits the floor and Jean cries out with such pain, you would think the blow was his to take. He scrambles over to him, standing over the fallen boy to protect him. The sight of Jean, barely clothed in rags, so small and slight, his eyes glassy and tired, standing to defend this boy with such defiance, is so heart wrenching, a tear slips down my face.

"So, do I need to repeat the question?" Chaos asks with false tenderness. I set my jaw, taking in deep, slow breathes. I shake my head. "Good, good." Chaos murmurs.

"I don't know who my father is." I say, carefully enunciating each syllable.

"Oh, pooh." She pouts childishly. "Not even a guess?"

"I have an idea."

"Oh, you can tell me and I'll tell you if it's right." She smiles brightly and I am boiling with the desire to smack her.

"Orion."

"The Hunter?"

"Yes."

She tries to keep a straight face, but can't keep from giggling from elation. "Oh, you're so smart, my dear! So smart!" She claps her hands excitedly. I have a feeling, no matter how twisted she is, Chaos is right. Surprisingly, the uncovering of my father's identity doesn't shock me. I simply add him to my list of parents who don't care about me.

"Now, do you know the story of you're parents?" She asks.

"Why does this matter?!" I shout, getting impatient.

Chaos smiles, deceptively kind. "Everything matters, my child. Everything." I remain silent as she rises from her seat. With a wave of her hand, the table separating us disappears and I'm flung forward, stopping just before I collide with her. She strokes my hair, a mimicry of motherly affection.

"Are you familiar with the story of creation?" Her voice is so quiet now, that I can't help but shake my head no.

"There was a time when I was alone in all of existence." She smiled nostalgically. "Nothing but my greatness filling up the corners of everything. Eventually, I gave birth to Night," She gestured to the raven haired women, who smiled coldly. "And then later Erebus, my son. Life was good. I was not so lonely. Then-" She stopped herself, as though remembering something painful. "Then came Love."

"Love?" I asked hesitantly. "You mean Aphrodite?"

"No." She said firmly. "Aphrodite is not Love herself. She may represent the actions of love, the outcomes, the attractions, she may gain all the fame for herself... But she is not Love. No," Chaos turned to look out the window. "No, Love is something entirely different."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Chaos turns back to me, smiling sweetly. She strokes my face and leans down to whisper in my ear. "Because," she says. "I want you to understand everything before I murder you."

I stiffen. My blood freezes. The simplicity of her voice is what sends needles into my spine. The plain fact that she will kill me.

I manage to summon the audacity to whisper, "Why?"

She steps back, placing her hands softly on her rounded hips. "Because killing you is the only way to get to Love."

"Why?" I ask, on the edge of desperation.

"Because you, my dear, are the ultimate product of love." She turned back to me, looking over me softly. "Your parent's forbidden love, your mother's intensity to preserve her lover, your father desire for your mother's heart, culminate in a pure concentration of Love. And when your blood is spills," She smiled. "Love will come rushing to reclaim that part of itself."

"T-Then what?" I ask, furious.

"Then," She allowed herself to relish this moment. "Then, I will destroy Love. I will destroy it, and the known world will slowly unravel without Love to keep itself together. The world will be swallowed up by Tartarus, then will simply cease to exits and Tartarus is destroyed." She was shaking now, quivering with excitement. "And then, then, then I will be ruler of all of existence once again."


	15. Chapter 15

**I don't own PJO.**

CHAPTER 15

Chaos puts me in the same, blank page cell as Jean and the other boy. The guards throw us in roughly, not even bothering chaining us. What could we do, this pitiful trio consisting of an over-emotional girl, a half-dead man, and a skinny boy with more bravery for his own good?

We rest on the ground for a moment, letting the ragged noises of our lungs be the soundtrack of our misery. Jean and I make eye contact and we share silents words that I can't find the strength to say.

_I'm scared._

_ I don't know what to do._

_ Will we ever get out?_

_ I don't want to die._

Jean's hazel eyes get glassy and he props himself up on his elbows. In the bright light, his skin looks almost translucent and I can see his heartbeat thumping quietly in his veins. He crawls over to the other guy, examines him for a moment, checks his pulse and feels his forehead. Satisfied, Jean sits cross legged by his head, staring at the ground.

After a while, I say, "Hey."

"Hi." He says, laughing a little.

"Are you okay?"

Jean smiles, like he's about to say something witty. But it dies on his lips and he just shakes his head. He raises an eyebrow, asking me the same question. I shake my head.

_I want you to understand everything before I murder you._ Chaos' words attack my mind like a thick cloud of bees, I cover my ears, on the brink of tears, trying to ward them away. I'm shaking, feeling every cell in my body scramble, trying to understand, trying to come to terms with its impending destruction. I'm so scared, I'm so scared and I can't handle it, I can't, I'm not strong enough and I won't ever be and I can't do this, I can't, I just can't...

Jean reaches out his hand to me, his eyes pleading. I stare at it dumbly, my mind having only enough strength to form the thought that Jean is a good friend. I reach out and take his hand. Using all his strength, he helps me into a sitting position. He reaches over and brushes the tears from my face and pushes the stray hair from my field of vision. Holding my cheeks in his soft grasp, he looks at me firmly in the eyes.

"Are you ready now? Do you need to cry some more?" He asks gently. I shake my head. He nods and releases my face. I sniffle and ask, "Where is Aaron?"

"I don't know." Jean shrugs. "When they grabbed us in the clearing, we were all separated. I last saw him with Colette. When I woke up, I was alone in a cell with Charlie." He looks down at the man.

"Is he okay?" I ask.

"I think so. I-I'm no good at healing magic, there's nothing I can do for him." Jean sighs painfully. "They kept coming in, coming to beat us, to intimidate us..." Jean takes a deep breath and I let him have a moment. I look hard at Charlie for the first time. He is blonde, tall, muscular, and probably very handsome. It's hard to tell with his entire body covered in congealed blood. Cuts cover his face from harsh beatings. I murmur in sympathy.

"So what are we gonna do?" Jean asks.

"I don't know." I answer quickly, looking away in shame. "I don't know."

We sit in silence for a moment, the totality of what I just said crushing us. I kinda just want my heart to stop beating for forever. I just want to tear it out and destroy it because I know that I'm the reason that we're all here. I'm the reason that Charlie, Jean, Colette, Aaron... I'm the reason that they will all die. I'm the reason that the world is going to be murdered. It's all me.

Jean reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze. "Hey," He says, trying to speak to me. "Hey, come on. Come on." He lifts up my chin using his fingers, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

"Listen," Jean continues. "Everything she said, it's true."

"That's comforting." I mumble. But he doesn't pay me any attention.

"She did rule the world. She did have Night and Erebus. And she did have Love." He gains a firmer grip on my chin. "But what she wants to do is impossible. She's right that everything is tied together with Love and without it, it would all unravel and fall apart. But, she would go with it. Even before Love was made, the essence of it lived on in Chaos. Not only that, but I don't think there's a way _to _kill Love. It's something that lives beyond the rules of this world, beyond the rules of death and destruction."

"But I'm not." I murmur.

"No... No, you're not." Jean lets go of my chin and leans in, his forehead pressing against mine. "But you're very strong. And she may be right about Love being inside you. If she is, you're even stronger than we think. You can beat her."

"Maybe I can." I say. "But I can't do it, not here, not now."

"Agreed."

"So," I roll back my shoulders, finding strength that wasn't there before. "I think we need to make our move when she _tries _to kill me. Chaos seems like the kind of lady that wants a show, it'll be big and open, there'll be plenty of chances to make a break for it."

"And what about Aaron and Colette?"

"I bet she'll have them there too." I say firmly. "And then we can all bust out of here at the same time." I smile and reach over and grab Jean's hand. "_All_ of us."


	16. Chapter 16

**I don't own PJO**

CHAPTER 16

It's been three days since Chaos first brought me into her presence. And now, as I walk down the corridors in chains, I feel that tonight, I die.

Night stands to my side, guiding the whole troupe of soldiers that stands firmly around me, Jean, and a stumbling Charlie. The chains dig into my wrists, but I embrace the sharp bits of pain. They help me focus.

Night doesn't say a word, but it seems like she's screaming at me with her presence alone. The way her thick black hair flows in a single sheet of darkness. How her heels click the floor violently. How the light is swallowed up by the blackness of her leather suit. Once in a while, she lets her eyes find me in their corners, so intense and so violent. They are white.

She takes us up a flight of stairs that opens up to a huge courtyard on top of the roof. At least, I think it's the roof. The entire forest is blanketed in a thick layer of fog. The wind is so fierce and cold that my skin screams in protest. Guards, strong and silent as ever, line themselves along the edges of the courtyard, the dim light glinting off their armor. To one side, I see Aaron in chains, Colette beside him.

I don't hesitate, I lunge for him. But, quick as lightning, I feel a sharp kick to my spine. I recoil in pain and, as I do, a foot flies into my field of vision, catches the chains that bind my hands, and brings them down to the floor, making me collapse. I look up, and Night and sneering at me, her foot firmly over the chains.

"Nice try, sweetheart." She says, using her foot to lift the chains up, forcing me to my feet. She takes them in her hand and leads me to the center of the courtyard.

I find myself staring at Aaron. He is beaten, like Charlie, but his face screams of defiance. His clothes are filthy and in tatters. Still, he carries himself with pride. Despite the welts that mar his face, I can still see _him_, somewhere beneath it all. But his eyes, they are cold and gray like stones. We lock eyes and a whole conversation takes place, without words.

_How could you_, he asks.

_It wasn't me, _I answer. _I swear I had nothing to do with this._

His face softens a small degree. After a moment, his eyes ask, _got a plan?_

_Yeah. Get out of here before I die. _I allow myself to give him a small smirk, which is received quietly. His face relaxes and he stares deeply into my face, like he could find all the answers he needs in it.

"Well, well, well," Chaos' voice is explosive in the silence. "Look at us. We've got the gang back together." She emerges from the staircase that brought me out here, seemingly gliding over the ground. She flicks her hand in command and the guards take Jean and Charlie over to Aaron and Colette. Chaos' smoky essences is wrapped around her elegantly and draped over her shoulders, like she needs protection from the cold. Her hair is held up in a tight bun. She takes her time coming towards me, each step long and slow. When she stops, she's inches from my face.

"Are you scared?" She asks simply.

"Yes." I answer in a flash of honesty.

"Oh, no you're not." She smiles big. "You may think you are, but you have no idea." She takes a few steps closer to the edge of the roof, letting the smoky shawl of her essence fall off her shoulders, revealing marble-like pale skin. I can't help but wonder what she means.

After a moment of taking in deep, cold breathes, she says, "Have you wondered how I'm going to do it?"

"Kill me, you mean?" I clasp my hands tight, trying to make my blood pumps. Aaron's eyes shoot open, distress storming over the gray in his pupils.

"Please, my girl." She turns around, her smile glittering. "Think a little bigger. I'm talking about how I'll rid the world of Love." I don't say anything because I haven't thought about that at all. It's hard to think about anything when your death is minutes away.

Chaos raises a hand and lays the sharp tip of one nail along her collarbone. She presses deep, so deep that she cuts into her skin. I expect to see golden _ichor_, the blood of the gods. But what leaks from her skin is thick, the color of darkness on the darkest night in history. Instead of dripping down her chest, it floats in mid-air, like a lava lamp, little globules of ink. She holds out her hand and the droplets flock to it, hovering a few inches over her skin. She brings it to her lips and she blows gently, minute ripples traveling over the orbs. They slowly turn from black to a sickly, malnourished green.

She holds it out for me to look at. I don't know what it is, but I feel every layer of my skin turn into a sheet of ice. My heart rate shoots up a million beats per second, but I feel each beat like a slap, like an agonizing stretch.

"Of course," Chaos says, her voice so soft and tender. "I'll need to find a better way of producing it. But for now, right in this instant, this will have to do." She raises her other hand, hovering around it like it's a flame. "Do you know what the opposite of Love is?"

"Hate." I'm too spellbound to try to say something witty.

"Oh no." She says. "Hate is Love's sister, its ever-present companion. No, the opposite of Love," She gives the droplets a final, strong breath, tumbling them towards me. "Is Fear."

The droplets burst against the skin, erupting into puffs of thick smoke that grows and encases me and chokes me and fills the roof of my mouth and clogs my lungs and burns my eyes and I'm dying from it and I grab my throat and fall to my knees and when I open my eyes, I'm not on the roof.

I am in a deep green forest with a man, the man from my dream, the man with the green eyes. He holds my hand and runs alongside me and makes me feel lighter than air and like I'm full of life, so full that every cell in my body is going to burst with it.

I see a strip of beach and I'm walking on it, with a blonde beautiful young man. I see him point and I see his mouth move. I see the simple competition of a sibling challenge. I see my arms raise, a bow in hand and an arrow notched. I see that arrow fly.

And I feel it hit.

I feel every bit of shattering pain, every flash of feathery anguish. I see me, hugging the body of the green eyed man, the man who is my father, the man named Orion, the man who Apollo tricked my mother into murdering.

I look back down and the man's eyes are gray. He is Aaron. He is Aaron and he is covered in his own blood and he is killed by me.

I scream, my throat tears out of my body and everything is red and horrible and dark and empty and has no meaning, no meaning at all because it doesn't matter, because I've killed the one thing that means anything to me. And I feel it, the world tearing it's way through me, I feel everything ripping apart in little torn up bits. And I feel my heart willing itself to stop. And I want it to, because I'm so terrified, I'm so scared that I can't handle this and I want my heart to stop. I want my heart to stop because I can't handle the pain. I can't handle the pain of walking in my mother's shoes.

But there is something dim, some kind of mass that takes form in the fiery blaze that covers me. This form stretches out, slowly, until it is a thin piece of paper between me and the pain. Ever so slowly, it thickens, until the violent shades of the pain are muted into the soft colors of the sun beating down on your face while you have your eyes closed. The colors turn gentle and beautiful just for a moment, just long enough for me to take one, huge shaky breath and step back.

The colors jack-knife into a stand still and disappear. I am back on the rooftop, Chaos staring at me with an equal mixture of stunned intimidation and rage beyond compare. I stare at her for a moment, breathless. Then my hands tighten into fists. Because Chaos was completely wrong.

Love is stronger than Fear.


	17. Chapter 17

**I don't own PJO. Thanks for being patient, you guys. Now that the musical has ended, I'll have a lot more time to write, so don't you worry, child.**

CHAPTER 17

"Guards!"  
"Now, Jean!"

Everything suddenly erupts into a whirlwind. Jean kicks one of the guards in his knee and, while he's on the ground, takes his sword from his sheath and finishes him off. He brings the sword down on Aaron's chains, which he holds out deftly.

Chaos takes an incredible leap for me, more like a bird of smoke than a person. She takes my throat in her strong hands, ready to tear out my tender flesh.

"It doesn't matter." She whispers fiercely through gritted teeth. "It doesn't matter that it didn't work on you. Because I can get it to work, I can. And you can't stop me, girl." She tightens her grip and I give up trying to breath. I lay a weak hand on her wrist, a useless attempt to stay her hand.

As soon as my hand touches her skin, I feel a pulse of something travel over my body. Something cold and stunning and beautiful. She feels it too, I can tell from how her pupils get huge and her mouth drops open. Slowly, her skin beneath my palm gets warmer and warmer until it gets blistering. She cries out and tries to pull herself off me, but can't. Now the heat is unbearable and I can't breathe, it's like an oven and it gets hotter and hotter every second until I think I'm going to burst into flames when suddenly, like breaking glass, Chaos is shot across the roof and the heat disappears. My chains turn to little pieces and I drop like a rag doll.

Taking deep breathes, laying my head on the rough material of the roof, I look up, seeing Chaos scrambling to her feet. Her cut over her collarbone is still oozing, slowly, and her smoky dress is practically boiling off her in furious billows. She gives Night, who has been watching everything with a shocked expression, an incredulous look.

"End them." She says angrily. With that, the black smoke around her collapses into her body and she's gone. Night gives me a sadistic look and leaps.

Suddenly she's on top of me and suddenly I kick her in the stomach, trying to get to my feet. As soon as I am, my bow is in my hand and I launch a blind arrow. It hits her in the arm, opposite her elbow, but she hardly notices. She waves her hand and a wicked curved knife is in her grasp.

She slices at me, which I hardly dodge. The second time, I use my bow to block and the air crackles with ozone. We push and pull, measuring each other's strength. I will win this fight, I tell myself. I will win and I will live.

I give Night a hearty shove, sending her off balance. In my peripheral vision, I see Aaron, Jean, and Colette, fighting with stolen weapons. Charlie tries to help, but I just see Jean holding him back. They all are so brave. And they will all be killed soon.

Night leaps back to her feet and swipes at me with her knife, left, right, left, right. It's everything I can do just to dodge the deadly blade. Once, though, she clips my right shoulder and I'm on the ground, the pain is so fiery and intense that the breath shoots out of me. I look up and Night is about to deliver the last blow.

Then, I feel the icy pulse again and before I can think, I kick her in the stomach, making her keel over. I then kick the side of her head and when she falls on her side, I stomp my foot on top of her hand as I scramble to my feet. She's groaning on the ground, looking up at me with the horrifying fear of a goddess. The world is suddenly brighter, but I don't think about that. I pull out an arrow and I don't hesitate before I drive it into her chest, right on her heart.

Her scream is overwhelming, it's awful and it lasts for so long. Until suddenly it stops and she goes frightfully still. I know I can't kill her, but I can stall her.

"Duck!"

I do as Aaron's voice commands without thinking about it. When I do, I hear the clang of metal against metal and a guard falls down next to me. Aaron steps over him and shoves his sword in the chink in his armor, ending him. He then looks at me.

"What... What happened?" He asks, his eyes shining. I'm about to ask him what he means when I realize, his eyes are shining. Shining _silver_.

I hold out my hand and surrounding it is a thin glow of silver. The blessing of Artemis.

I suppose even here, my mother can see me.

I open my mouth to say something when I feel something underneath us. Like an earthquake. Or a thousand guards running up here to destroy us.

"Over here!" Jean yells, standing at the edge with the others. Aaron and I run over and I almost fall over the edge, Aaron has to grab my shoulder and pull me back. Beneath us, a violent ocean crashes against black sea rock. The ocean roars to us and I am scared.

"Can we do it?" Colette asks. At first, I think she's asking me but then I realize she's looking hopefully at Aaron.

He looks dubious. "Maybe. I can do some of the things my dad can do, and I think I can manage all of us, but..."

"We don't have much choice, do we?" Jean asks sharply.

Aaron nods and takes a deep breath. He holds his hand over the edge, breathing deep and slow. At first, nothing. But then, I notice the waves calm, just on our side, until they are still. Still enough for five teenagers to escape into.

"How will we get home?" Colette asks, scared.

"I don't know." Aaron says, looking pale and weak after that.

"_I_ don't really care." Jean get a better grip on Charlie's broad shoulders and doesn't hesitate as he leaps off the edge. Colette is so unsure, it's almost like she trips off. Her platinum hair flies up behind her as she crashes into the water with a delicate doily of foam.

In a sudden burst of emotion, I take Aaron's hand. "I'm sorry." I manage, terrified because the guards are almost here and even more terrified of the tears that leak from my eyes.

"Nothing to be sorry for." He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, hard, on the mouth. And with that, he pulls me off.

As we tumble through the air, the terror and sheer joy in me sends another icy pulse through me and a shot of pure silver light flies straight into the air. Once in the sky, it bursts into the brightest explosion I've ever seen.

_Beautiful_, I think. Then, I hit the water.


	18. Chapter 18

**I don't own PJO.**

CHAPTER 18

When I wake up for the first time, I see white gauze and I smell honey. It is blurry and there it the dull sense that someone is holding my hand.

_This person_, I think, _is a good person to hold your hand. Nice._ I fall back into unconsciousness.

This kind of sleep is beautiful. It's the sleep where no dreams can reach you, where you see their beautiful little tendrils reaching out for you and they try so hard to carry you away, but no this time. Not, this kind of sleep is when you spend your time blissfully lost in a thick, gel-like darkness that numbs you into nothing. It's the most relaxing sleep.

When I wake up for the second time, I can tell I'll stay awake for a while. The first deep breath I take is so startling, like my lungs had forgotten to breath while asleep. The light is strong and startling. Sitting in a wicker chair is Percy Jackson.

He looks battered, though that doesn't mean much coming from me. His hair is unwashed and messy, his once light brushing of facial hair now bordering on full grown beard. His green eyes, though bright, are surrounded by deep bags. His left arm hands in a surprisingly bright white sling. He is reading a book and on the table next to him, there is a tray with a bowl on it.

As I struggle into a semi-sitting position, Percy suddenly becomes aware of my consciousness. He smiles brightly and moves to help me.

"I'm fine." I say.

"Of course." He sets his book down and, when I'm successfully propped up, with pillows cushioning my back, he places the tray on my lap, like a bed and breakfast. The bowl contains a thin, almost clear soup. I start scooping large spoonfuls as fast as I can into my mouth, ravenous hunger suddenly slapping me, but he says, "Slowly, slowly."

I nod and something dark across the room catches my eye. It's Aaron, his head resting gently on a soft pillow. Next to him, Colette is sleeping quietly. Even covered in little cuts and bruises, she is lovely. I turn my head and I see Jean, dark and dear, and past him, Charlie. White gauze separates us, moving gently in a warm, sweet breeze. They are all here. They are all safe. I feel tears well up but I force myself to hold them back.

"Where are we?" I ask dumbly.

"Olympus." Percy supplies the answer I already knew. "We found you off the Arctic coast, your air bubble almost run out of oxygen. I'm actually surprised you lasted that long." He looks over his shoulder at Aaron. "It must've taken a lot out of him." His voice is pained and worried, the voice of a father.

"How did you find us?"

"My father was already on look out for, well, any sign of you." He says, looking apologetic. But I don't take insult. It was the gods watchfulness that saved us. "But, what really caught our eye was a burst of astral energy a few miles away from where you were. We thought it was Artemis, cluing us in on your location, but she denies having anything to do with it."

"Astral energy?" I ask, the words feeling bubbly and strange in my mouth.

Percy nods. "I don't really understand it, Annabeth could do a better job, but from what I can tell, it's the pure life force of the stars. Not just cold fire, but the hopes and dreams and faith put into the stars."

I nod, not understanding a word. I decide not to tell Percy anything about the explosion, the flash of light, because I don't want him to worry. And I want to find the answers before I start asking the questions.

"Are they okay?" I nod to the others.

Percy nods slowly, relief slowing down his movements. "Thankfully, having the God of Medicine on call is a very useful thing to have. He fixed you all up before you could say, 'Zeus'. Now, all you need is some rest."

I nod. But then I notice something. If we are in the infirmaries of Olympus, there should be naiads and godlings strolling the complex. Everything is so quiet.

"Is something going on?" I ask. Percy sighs and sits back, rubbing his forehead.

"The Olympians are having a council."

"About what?"

"About you." He looks at me dead on and I decide instantly to trust anything Percy Jackson ever tells me, because no one with such honesty in their eyes could ever lie. "Some of the gods do not want to wait for your explanation, some of them think it would be easier just to blow you up and be rid of the problem."

"But I didn't do anything!"

"Some of them aren't so sure of that." His eyes darken and they comfort me. I stare at the bowl in front of me, my appetite gone. My life is in the hands of a group of bickering immortals who are scared and would gladly get rid of me.

"But you shouldn't worry about it. Annabeth is in there vouching for you. Jean has been up before and he explained everything to her and now, she's trying to convince the others. And trust me, if there's anyone in the world who can convince the Olympians to do anything, it's my wife." He smiles at me and I let myself lie back, relaxing knowing Annabeth has my back.

Percy takes the tray off of my lap and sets it on the side table. He then leans over, brushes my hair from my ear, and whispers into it.

"You kept my son safe." He says. "You kept him safe in an impossibly dangerous situation. You brought him back to me and Annabeth. You brought him back-" His voice cracks with a soft cry. After a moment he says, "I will always be in your debt. Thank you, Aspasia." He then kisses my forehead and he's gone, his footsteps gently clicking the floor.

I sit there in my bed, feeling his warm kiss linger on my skin. Is that what a father does? Does he do it for his sons as well, or only his daughters? Is this what a family does when they love each other? I try not to think about. I let the warmth of his kiss spread from my forehead all over my body, warming me. I then think about Aaron's kiss, his on my lips, and I can't pin it down. I can barely remember it happened. It was my first, and people seem to be able to remember everything about their first kiss, but all I can remember is that I was scared and my heart was pounding and I wanted him to kiss me again.

I hear shuffle in their sheets and I look over, my eyes meeting Jean's sleepy hazel ones. He smiles and I smile back. We don't say anything for a long time, just look into each other's eyes and feel our heartbeats fall into sync. Eventually, Jean says quietly, "My father was a son of Morpheus."

I don't say anything. I just keep my eyes on him.

"Because of that, I has a gift. A gift for dreams. I can give anyone any dream. Or a nightmare, theoretically. I gave all them," his gaze shifts to the others. "the best dream I could think of. All except you."

"Why?"

"Because your mind was too strong. I couldn't get through it. But, if I had your permission, I would be honored if you would let me give you a dream."

And this is why I adore Jean. It's hard not to love someone who looks at you with such sweet eyes and asks so politely to give you a nice dream.

So I nod. "You have my permission." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. A moment pass and I wait for something to happen, but I realize Jean has fallen back asleep. I smile and decide to follow suit.

This time, a dream fills my mind. It is vivid and real. I am walking through a meadow, lavender and roses and vanilla and every other heavenly scent filling the air. The sunlight is bright and golden and warms my skin.

Suddenly someone is holding my hand and when I look, it is a women with auburn hair and eyes the color of the moon. I know my mother doesn't look like that, but this women is my mother in my dream and her touch fills me with such joy that my heart sings. Then, my other hand is taken up. And when I look to see who it is, it is a man with dark hair and green eyes. It is Orion, my father, and he is smiling, laughing. I am a small child, walking through a beautiful meadow with my parents. My mother and I pick flowers and make necklaces that we don on and force my father to wear. My father laughs, a big hearty laugh that is perfect for a father, and tells us beautiful jokes that I know I won't remember when I wake.

We never get to where we are walking to. But that's not the point of the dream, I think.


	19. Chapter 19

**I don't own PJO.**

CHAPTER 19

I am wearing a white dress, my hair pinned carefully away from my face, and my stomach twisting into knots.

It has been a week since we were rescued from the ocean.

The day after I woke up, the others also came too and our recovery was quick after that. I am still tired, my body is still sore and it feels empty, but I can always find the energy to keep going. Even Charlie has made a recovery. When he first woke up, and I was able to walk, I sat at his bedside, keeping him company.

"Thank you." He said, his voice deep with a beautiful resonance.

"There's nothing to thank," I say. "I didn't do anything that-" He stops my words with a big, warm hug that makes your insides feel wrapped up in the embrace.

"You'll find out," he said. "That I'm a hugger." And then he gave me one final squeeze, for good luck. And I started to see how Jean felt so attached to him. It was hard not to be attached to someone so warm and inviting, who overwhelmed you with his _thereness_.

When Aaron woke up, it was harder. I just laid in my bed, directly across from him, and we would look at each other for a while and listen to the other's breathing. No words are spoken, because they would ruin the moment. This deserves pure silence. And for a while, that's what we give it. But soon, we have to talk.

"I'm glad you're not dead." I say.

"I'm glad you're not dead too." Aaron's eyes were so beautiful, so soft and full of light. We didn't say much after. We didn't need to. But soon, we just started talking. About our favorite things (Aaron loves corn dogs and crayons, though not necessarily together), our futures (Aaron knows the world wants him to take over the school his dad has made, but he just wants to stay and help out at camp), and funny things (one time, Aaron tripped in front of everyone at his first and last orchestra concert in the fifth grade), but we don't talk about Chaos or what happened in the Woods or Olympus and we certainly don't talk about the kiss. Even so, it feels like we both know it happened and we're both not sorry about it.

Now, I'm standing in the back of the Dining Hall, as everyone clamors over dinner. They all know what will happen, but they squeeze in as much chatter as they can. Some give me sideways glances, anxious murmurs, but nothing more.

"Aren't you going to sit down?" A lofty voice says beside me.

"No, Colette." I answer her, looking at her from the corners of my eyes. "I'm not hungry. Why don't you join them?" She looks stunning, also in a white dress but one in such better fashion and design that I have to wonder whether it's her goal to out do me in everything.

"Why don't you just sit and not eat?" She asks, her green eyes questioning. "You know Chiron is planning on saying something."

"Exactly."

"And you _don't _want everyone to see you?" She looks like I've just said the craziest thing. I'm about to say something dry and sarcastic when I catch a glimpse of her eyes. Incredulous, yes, but beneath that and the vanity, there is that thick layer of self-doubt. I see the girl who desperately needs the approval of others, who needs the love of a crowd, who needs all those things because she never got that as a child.

I put a hand on her bare shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Colette. Go have a fun time." She rolls her eyes and is about to walk away when I say, "I'm glad. That you're, ya know, okay."

Colette looks from my hand to my eyes and back. After a moment of consideration, she lifts her hand and squeezes mine. "You too." She says, her voice softer and sweeter this time.

She walks away, the other campers taking the time away from their own conversations to watch her move down the aisle with utter grace. She stops at the Poseidon table, placing a hand on Aaron's back and talking to him flirtatiously. Aaron, looking so sweet in a plain white button up and khaki shorts, talks to her normally, but I see in Colette something new. I see a girl, so in need of the spotlight, she will do anything for the ultimate prize: the love of Aaron Jackson.

Chiron gets up at this time, silencing the campers with his booming voice, but I am already on my way out, I don't even hear the beginnings of his speech.

My feet take me through the forest, it's soft green voice whispering sweet words to me. A few birds flutter down to lower branches to tweet greetings to me, a squirrel or two peek nervously at me from behind thick foliage. It is mid-June, which is hard for me to believe, and summer is in full swing. The air is hot and thick around me and I am soon covered in a layer of sweat.

I come to a meadow and suddenly, the air around me cools drastically. Not uncomfortable, just the cool of a fall day or after a spring shower. The air feels different, sweeter perhaps, and the birdsong is louder, clearer. I look to the center of the meadow and I find the reason why.

A young girl, no older than twelve is standing there. She is wearing jeans and a silvery jacket, a quiver slung behind her back with a full set of arrows and a silver bow in it. Her thick auburn hair is pulled back in a ponytail. When she turns to look at me, her eyes are luminous as the harvest moon, her skin pale, her face fresh and lovely. I've never seen her before in my life, but I instantly know who she is.

"Artemis." My voice whispers, the word dying on my chapped lips.


	20. Chapter 20

**I don't own PJO. Okay, we're getting close to the end here. But trust me, there's more to come. Stay tuned.**

CHAPTER 20

"Child." Artemis says, clasping her hands behind her back. I don't know what to do, my stomach is in knots and my muscles so tight I think they might snap. I don't move, I don't speak, I don't even dare breath. I don't do anything because I'm not brave enough, I'm not brave enough to do anything right now.

For the first time in my life, my mother is standing in front of me. She is speaking to me. She is here.

Artemis turns from me, looking over the meadow. In some unspoken language, I know she wants me to come towards her and I take hesitant steps. I realize this is the meadow where Aaron and I were first attacked by the troll. The deep scars in the earth still remain, though wildflowers burst from them, like healing flesh over a wound.

"You have done well." She starts, refusing to look me in the eye. She simply stares into the trees and I do too. I become painfully aware of how tall I am in comparison. How this little girl, who looks no older than twelve, is my mother. "You have braved the evils of Chaos and brought honor to my name."

"I didn't do it for you." I say, my voice no louder than a whisper. Artemis suddenly looks at me, her bright eyes harsh.

"No, you did not." She says. "But either way, you represent me and your actions reflect upon me." She talks like I imagine a principal would, punishing a student.

"For that, I thank you." She turns her gaze back to the woods. "I would also like to inform you how glad I am at your apparent safety. I have been most worried since you disappeared." Each word comes out stiff and constrained. It stabs at my stomach, especially when I remember Annabeth, standing over Aaron in the infirmary, so loving and so gentle. I try to remember that this is the women who sent me Argent, who was going to protect me from the wrath of the gods. I try, but I fail.

"I don't need to inform you that dangers still lingers." She continues. "Chaos may have been stunned by your escape, but it will not stop her from proceeding as planned. She will try to accomplish her mission until you can stop her from doing so."

"Why me?" I ask.

"Because you are the only one who has ever done it." She looks at me from the corner of her eye and I see something strange: fear. "No mortal could ever face Chaos and live to tell the tale. Which makes you special. Or lucky. Either way, you're are only hope against her." She turns her entire body towards me and I face her dead on, cringing at the fact that I must look down to make eye contact.

"And I hope you know," She states. "That you will have my full support."

"Support?" I repeat dumbly. "Support?" I can't help it, I explode and words vomit out of my mouth. "You have the _audacity _to offer me your support? Where was your support for the last sixteen years, when I was alone and scared? Where was your support for the little six year old girl who cried every night because she had no one, _no one_! Where was your support when I had bear the blame for what you did, for the vow you made _and _broke? Where was it, huh? Tell me, _where_?"

My voice is echoing around the meadow and I like it. The pure brutality of my words makes me smile. Artemis is stunned at first, her face slack with shock. Then, anger fills her young face like water in a cup.

"You insolent girl!" Her voice is even more booming, echos and ages of power shining in it. "You dare challenge me? You have the nerve to question my decisions?" She is shimmering with silver and her anger is frightening. I take a step back and trip, finding Artemis towering over me. "_You_, of all people! The daughter I have tried so hard to protect, to provide to her a life that she deserves! And all you have _ever_ done is spit in my face. Your thirteenth year came and went and you never even asked to join the Hunters. Can you imagine the dishonor that brought me? How dare you ask _me_ of my support? Where was my support, when I had to _live_ with that broken vow? Where was my support when I had to face that mistake every day for eternity?"

"So that's what I am?" I shout back, tears streaming down my face. "A _mistake_?"

The word resonates and we both seem to exhale. Artemis gains control over her form and I wipe the tears form my face, forcing myself to stand.

"I am a goddess." She says, using the voice of someone trying to explain something complicated to a small child. "Anything that distracts me from my duty cannot be permitted to be part of my life."

"So that's why I never had a mother?" I ask dryly. "Duty?"

"Yes." Artemis says firmly. She tightens her little fists and says, "Duty."

"Was Orion a distraction from your duty?  
The shock on my mother's face is so real, it's almost as if I've slapped her. I see Orion's death over and over in my mind and I see the feeling of such raw grief play out over and over on my mother's face. But I don't sympathize. I just watch her.

She eventually regains her composure and says, "I don't have to justify anything to you." Her voice is shaky now.

"Of course not," I say. "I'm only your daughter."

Artemis looks at me in the eyes, silver meeting silver. I don't know what she's feeling. I don't really know what I'm feeling. But I realize that me and my mother will never be like a normal family. We won't even be like a regular demigod family. We won't ever be anything, because my mother is so terrified of failing at her duty, she can't even stand in front of her daughter as a women.

Artemis doesn't say anymore, just begins to glow. I close my eyes at the last minute, just as the light gets harsh. When I open the, she is gone. I am alone in the beautiful meadow. And I don't know why, but I start crying.


	21. Chapter 21

**I don't own PJO. Okay guys, last chapter!**

CHAPTER 20

A few days have passed and the Camp has simmered down a bit. Percy has left, having to attend the school, and he is soon followed by Annabeth. Before she left, she told me she would be looking for more information about Chaos.

"I don't know how useful it will be." She said. "But I figure knowing everything we can can't hurt." I nod and she suddenly embraced me in a pain-inducing hug. I was sad when she let go.

Now, I am sitting on the dock, letting my feet trail in the water, watching the sun go down. The nymphs are weaving baskets underwater and they once or twice look up at me, giggle, then wave. I wave back softly.

Across the lake, I see a few distant figures playing some volleyball. I instantly recognize the big, bulky silhouette of Charlie and the smooth, easy gait of Jean. Those two seem like peas in a pod nowadays. Charlie is all healed and Jean has started trying to learn more and more of his mother's craft: magic. I managed to thank him for the dream he gave me, deciding not to tell him about how far from reality it was. He simply smiled and asked if he could give me another every once and a while. I consented and last night, I dreamed of pink Jewish elephants playing poker and a walrus with the face of a chicken singing jazz. Not sure where that one came from.

I hear footsteps against the old wood and someone takes a seat next to me. In the corner of my eye, I see Aaron's thoughtful face, brightened by the hues of the setting sun. He hasn't spoken to me much, too caught up in his even more astronomical fame and Colette's constant attentions. But now he is alone and he is alone with me.

"It's beautiful." He says.

"Yes, it is." I take a moment to appreciate the view. The reds are bleeding into the oranges and the yellows are so delicate and fragile that I can barely tell the difference between them and the whites. And the lake simply reflects the masterpiece, like a mirror held up to a bonfire.

"I'm glad everything is back to normal." He says. I become frightfully aware of how close his hand is to mine. I think about scooting over, but I don't.

"Me too."

"Who knows for how long though?"

"Yeah." I murmur. "Chaos is bound to make another move and we can't let her complete her plan. We can't rest until-"

"Of course," He cuts me off cheerfully. "I think we can be sure we have tonight to rest."

I look at him dead on. "What?"

"I mean," He turns to me, his eyes playful. "I'm assume you don't think Chaos is going to attack us right now, at this _very instant_?" A smile warms my cheeks. I had forgotten how beautifully wonderful Aaron was and now that I had him back, it was like I never had lost him.

"No, I don't think so."

"And I don't think she'll plan an attack for the rest of summer, do you?" He leans in a millimeter.

"No I don't." I lean in too.

"But she's bound to attack _after_ summer?" His lips part in the most beautiful way.

"Of course."

"So..." His voice is deep and lingering. "I guess we'll have to restart training." He instantly leans back and smiles like nothing happened.

I let out a sigh. _Boys_... "I guess we will." I sit on top of my hands to stop them from tightening into fists.

"But," He says in his playful voice again. "We don't have to start until tomorrow do we?" His shoulder touches mine, sending sparks into my veins. I look back over and I find him leaning in again. As much as I want his kiss, a voice in my head is growling for him to stop playing games and to just kiss me.

Suddenly, a burst of mischief lights in me. "No, we don't." I say, before I give him a hearty shove into the water. The look of surprise on his face is priceless. When he resurfaces, I am running towards the woods, my laughter trailing behind me. Aaron jumps back onto the dock, not even wet from his trip into the lake, and he's after me, only a few paces behind. We're laughing and shouting and running through the trees and I've never felt so happy and free.

Eventually, we collapse next to each other, gasping with a few late bursts of joy. The sun has finally set and the moon and stars shine bright above us. The cool grass feels soft against my skin. Eventually, when our hearts calm down, Aaron's hand slips into mine. It feels alien and natural at the same time. When he pulls me over, so close that our noses brush, I feel terrified and exhilarated at the same time. His warm breath spreads sweetly over my face.

"I've been working on some new skills." I murmur, probably killing the mood, but I don't care.

"Really?" Aaron seems too distracted to notice my words, but I don't worry. I just take my free hand and wave it.

Instantly, small balls of light tumble out of my palm. They dip at first, but then rise and float, bobbing like the gentle glow of fireflies. Only these lights are silver, bright silver, and the circle around me and Aaron like a slow moving whirlpool. Aaron looks up, his face dramatically highlighted by the lights. Hundreds of them, roaming around us, the sheer beauty of it stuns him. Then, he looks at me and the expression on his features, that of pure wonder, makes my heart stop beating.

Then he kisses me and my heart explodes.

**Okay everyone, that's a wrap. Wow, that's to everyone who has been reading, it means so much to me, you have no idea. Please read my other fanfiction (Hunger Games- _Broken Silence_; Les Miserables – _In the Rain_) and follow me on twitter .woods**

**Stay tuned for the next Aspasia novel, where our heroine must brave the Desert of Illusion...**

**Wow, that sounded much more melodramatic that I wanted it to.**

**Anyways, love to all of you guys!**

**-Roman**


	22. Playlist

**Okay, here is a playlist full of songs that inspired some of the themes in _The Darker Woods._**

_To Whom It May Concern – The Civil Wars_

_Skinny Love – Birdy_

_Lying to the Mirror – Gabrielle Aplin_

_sundays – nonnsha_

_Little Numbers – Boy_

_Recovery – Frank Turner_

_Last Hope – Paramore_

_Heavy in Your Arms – Florence + The Machine_

_Part II – Paramore_

_Say a Prayer – Tyler Bryant & The Shakedowns_

_Let The Flames Begin – Paramore_

_Radioactive – Pentatonix feat. Lindsey Stirling_

_Barton Hollow – The Civil Wars_

_Monster – Kris Allen_

_Future – Paramore_

_Winter Song – Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson_

_Left Behind – Jonathan Groff_

_Hate To See Your Heart Break – Paramore_

_Tomorrow Is a Long Time – Bob Dylan_

_The Call (Live In London) – Regina Spektor_


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